


Stairway to Heaven

by Clowns_or_Midgets, snarkymuch



Series: Heaven and Hell [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Samifer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 91,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clowns_or_Midgets/pseuds/Clowns_or_Midgets, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymuch/pseuds/snarkymuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. To save his brother, Sam makes a deal with the devil. The<br/>creature he expects and the man he actually encounters are two different<br/>beings, and soon he will have to choose between what he knows is right and<br/>what his heart desires. Co-written with Clowns or Midgets</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

"Sam, run!" Dean yells as he pushes Sam in front of him. "Hurry!"

The hellhounds cry out in the night, howling and baying in the distance. Sam can almost feel the energy of them crackling in the night air. The pounding beats of paws grow closer, louder, and Dean and Sam push themselves faster. Sam's legs are beginning to tremble as they duck into an alleyway.

Dean finds an old green door recessed into the brickwork of the alley wall. He shoves it with his shoulder and the old lock gives way. "This way, Sammy."

Sam looks back over his shoulder, as he can hear the hounds close, too close. They are huffing and snarling as they close the distance between them. Sam is almost hypnotized by the sound. He thinks back to his dream the night before, to Lucifer. Lucifer had said that he would hunt them, hunt Dean, until Sam gave himself up. This must have been what he meant. The devil had told him all he had to do was say yes, or at the least, come with him. Give him a chance to explain his side of things. He never thought the Devil would send hellhounds after him.

Dean grabs a fistful of Sam's jacket and yanks him towards the door. "Let's go," he says as he shoves Sam inside.

The hallway they find themselves in smells of urine and garbage. There is a narrow staircase and Dean grabs Sam, dragging him up it.

The hounds claw and howl at the door, begging for entrance. The lock doesn't hold them long, though. As soon as they begin to throw their weight at it, Sam knows it's over.

Just as Dean drags Sam around the corner at the top of the stairs, there is a bang and the sound of heavy paws slamming into the floor.

"Shit, run, Sammy!" Dean shoves Sam forward and turns to face the oncoming hounds. With a rush of air, Dean is thrown back into the wall and claw marks appear on his chest. It's too familiar for Sam and thinks back to what it was like to see Dean get dragged to hell. He doesn't want to put his brother through it again. He has to make the deal.

"Lucifer!" Sam cries as he runs and grabs at the invisible hound, cutting his arms and side in the process. Blood is everywhere, Dean and Sam's mixed together. "Call them off and I'll go with you!"

Using all his strength, Sam works his way between Dean and the hellhound. His hands are slippery with blood and he can feel the teeth cutting and slicing his flesh. He begins to wonder if Lucifer is in fact just going to leave them both to die.

"Lucifer!"

Suddenly, the hounds whine and fall back. They cry out like they're in pain, and Sam wonders if they are.

"What…?" Dean says, panting. "Sam?"

Sam looks at Dean apologetically and then hangs his head. "I'm sorry."

Dean pushes himself off the wall, and holding his bleeding side, he walks over to Sam. "What's going on, Sam?"

"I'm sorry, Dean, but I have to do this." Sam draws backs a bloody fist and lands a blow to Dean's jaw, sending him tumbling back to the floor.

Sam walks out of the building and heads to the street. He goes to the car and grabs his duffel. With a hung head, he walks out to the alleyway and falls to his knees, praying to the one angel that they all fear, that they all knew could end it all. He prays to Lucifer.

With sweaty, bloody hands, he waits, the damp ground soaking through his jeans. Blood drips down his fingertips and onto the cold damp ground.

There is a faint fluttering of wings, and then he knows he's not alone. The thought sends a shiver down his spine. For a moment, he regrets what he's doing. Maybe he should find another way, but then he remembers what it was like to see Dean being torn to pieces by the hellhounds, and he sets his jaw. No matter what Lucifer does to him, he won't say yes. He can't.

Lucifer approaches him slowly, head tilted to the side. "You're hurt," the angel says solemnly, like the knowledge pained him.

Sam swallows and looks up at him. "Only because of you."

"Believe me, Sam, I didn't want you injured. You're my vessel, my other half. Having you hurt doesn't serve my purpose."

Sam looks up at him with contempt. "If I go with you, you promise to keep Dean safe?"

The devil is calm and cool, and it makes Sam cringe. "Of course. I won't let a demon so much as touch a hair on his head."

Sam nods. He is doing this for Dean and no one else. "So are we going or what?" Sam says quietly. He doesn't want to play Lucifer's games. He doesn't want to talk to the fallen angel.

Lucifer nods. He reaches out and touches Sam's shoulder and a moment later they are gone.

When they reappear, they're in what looks like a rundown motel.

"Home sweet home, Sammy," Lucifer chimes.

Sam clutches a hand to the wounds on his side. He's still kneeling. "Where are we?"

"Detroit."

Sam nods and looks around. The room is shabby and worn. There are two beds, both still made. A small fridge hums in the corner, struggling on its last legs. The curtains are drawn, and a dim lamp lights the corner of the room.

Sam is beginning to feel dizzy from the blood loss. He leans down and presses a hand to the threadbare carpet. The room spins a little.

Lucifer takes a step forward and looks at him quizzically, like he's not really sure what he's meant to say. "You're in pain."

Sam tosses him a bitch face. "Yes, Lucifer. I'm in pain. What gave it away?"

Lucifer kneels down in front of him, slowly extending a hand.

Sam cringes back. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Healing you," the devil says plainly.

"Maybe I don't want to be healed."

Lucifer sighs and folds his hands together. "I don't want you to suffer."

Sam studies the fallen angel. He looks genuine in his concern for Sam, and it unnerves Sam a little. The devil should never look so caring.

"I don't need your help," Sam says defiantly and pushes himself up to stand. He winces in pain as the claw marks pull. He can feel a fresh trickle of blood rolling down his side.

He presses his hand back to his side and feels the blood spill out over his hand. He wavers on his feet and he can see Lucifer out of the corner of his eye, watching him. Sam's nearly bled out enough times to know when he was about to cross the fickle line of bad and really bad, and he was about to cross that line.

Taking a shaky step, he begins to walk toward the bed. Just as he reaches the foot of the bed, he wavers. The room spins and he falls forward in a heap. The last thing he hears is the blood rushing in his ears and Lucifer whispering his name.


	2. Chapter 2

When Sam wakes he feels refreshed, which in itself confuses him. The last thing he remembers is feeling blood seeping through his fingers. His hand instinctively goes his side and feels for the wound there, but he feels nothing. Not even a shirt. His brain kicks into gear then, and he opens his eyes and looks around. His gaze falls on Lucifer who is sitting on the bed adjacent to the one he's on, looking concerned.

Sam pushes himself up to sit and looks down to see his chest bare and clean. "You healed me."

"I did."

"I said I didn't want your help. What part didn't you understand?"

"I couldn't let you die, Sam," Lucifer states as if it is obvious.

Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Can I at least have a shirt?"

Lucifer motions to the small table. "I did you the service of collecting your belongings. Although, I have to say, you don't have much."

"Don't need much." Sam gets up and walks over to the table and grabs his bag, digging through it. He pulls out a shirt and puts it on. Lucifer's gaze never leaves him.

"Are you just going to keep staring at me?"

Lucifer frowns, little lines appearing between his brows. "Is it bothering you?"

It's bothering Sam immensely. It's making his skin crawl. "Yes, actually."

Lucifer looks away. "I want you to be comfortable, Sam."

Sam licks his lips. "Yeah, sure you do. Right up to where you want to wear me as your meat suit."

"It wouldn't be all that terrible you know. I wouldn't harm you. Your consciousness would stay intact. We would be together, Sam."

"As much as I would like that, I think I am just going to go... I don't know what I'm going to do. Am I allowed to leave?"

"With me? Yes. Alone? No."

Sam huffs and sits back down on the bed. "So this is it, your great and masterful plan? This is how you plan on getting me to say yes, by boring me to death?"

Lucifer tilts his head. "Why can't you understand this is for the best?"

"Because this isn't. Ending humanity, destroying the world, that's not for the best. The only reason I'm here is to protect Dean. That's it. So you can keep your angel mojo to yourself. I don't want to be healed, and I don't want to be your meat suit. Torture me, kill me, whatever, but the answer's no."

Lucifer stares at him for a moment and then gets up and walks to the window. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Sam. It's only going to make things harder for you."

The next day is spent in near silence. Sam paces the small room while Lucifers watches. Sam thinks of Dean and of what he must be thinking. He wonders if he's okay. The wounds he'd had weren't fatal but that didn't make him worry any less.

"Your brother is well, I can assure you," Lucifer says, like he's reading his mind. Maybe he is.

Sam looks over at him. "I'm going to find a way out of this."

Lucifer shrugs. He looks a bit smug. "I don't doubt you'll try."

Sam huffs and walks over to his bag. He digs through it, curious what else the Devil deemed worthy of packing. His hand bumps something cold and hard and he realizes that his knife is in the bag. He tucks that piece of information away for later. It might come in handy.

He finds his dad's journal and pulls it out. Sighing, he walks over to the bed and flops down.

"It's time for you to eat," Lucifer states, looking at his watch.

Sam scoffs.

Lucifer scrunches his brow and tilts his head. He looks at him like that for a moment. "You haven't eaten in nearly a day."

"I'm not hungry."

Lucifer looks at him, amused. "I can hear your stomach."

Sam thinks that that is just a bit too much, and he pushes himself back up. "Look, I don't know what you're playing at, but this needs to stop. This whole nice act. It's not okay. This is not okay."

Lucifer raises a brow. "Are you done?"

Sam licks his lips. "Yeah. I'm done."

"Good. Now, what do you want to eat?"

Sam's hungry, but he shakes his head. "I'm not eating and you can't make me." It comes out more childish than it sounded in Sam's head.

Lucifer narrows his eyes at Sam. "Don't underestimate me, Sam. I don't take well to my things talking back."

Sam stares back at him. "Fuck you."

Lucifer roars and throws his arm up. Just as he does, Sam is thrown back by an invisible force. He hits the wall hard and it knocks the wind out of him. He gasps for breath.

Lucifer turns and stares at him, eyes dark.

Sam clutches his side. He's pretty sure he's broken a rib. He takes a slow breath and feels it pull painfully. He winces despite himself.

"I've hurt you." Lucifer looks solemn. "I didn't... It wasn't my intent."

Sam scowls and limps over to the bed, sitting down. "Just go away."

"I can't..."

"Just shut up and go away," Sam says through pained breaths. Nothing Lucifer could say could make this any better.

Sam lays down on the bed and closes his eyes. So far Lucifer has respected his request to be left alone, and Sam is thankful.

There is a flutter of wings, and Sam opens his eyes and looks around. Lucifer is gone. For a moment, Sam is stunned. The Devil has left him alone. Maybe he can make an escape.

Moving as quickly as he can, Sam gets up and moves to the door, but before he gets across the room, Sam hears the angel returning behind him.

"Where are you going?"

Sam turns and looks at him. "Nowhere." He runs his hand through his hair.

Lucifer eyes him carefully and then nods. "I brought food."

Sam takes a breath. The food smells good, and it makes his stomach growl. Sam pushes the feeling down and walks past him back to the bed. He sits back down gingerly, trying not to jar his rib.

Lucifer walks over to the bed and sits beside him. He opens the bag and pulls out the styrofoam container, offering it to Sam. Sam doesn't accept it though. He just shakes his head.

"You've got to eat, Sam," Lucifer says softly.

Sam takes a pained breath, rubbing his side. "I'm not in the mood."

Lucifer sighs and puts the food back into the bag. "Then let me heal you."

"No," Sam says. "No angel mojo."

They fall into silence. Sam pushes himself up and away from Lucifer. He doesn't like being that close. He goes to the other bed and lays down carefully, avoiding putting any weight on his bruised side.

Sam closes his eyes and thinks back to the last time he saw Dean and the way he had to leave him. It wasn't fair but he hoped Dean would understand if he knew.

Sam yawns and pulls the pillow closer under his head. He's tired and his body hurts. He falls asleep knowing that the fallen angel is only steps away, watching him sleep.

Sam wakes to his side hurting. He winces and presses a hand to his rib. He's surprised to be honest. He expected Lucifer to heal him once he was asleep. It wasn't like the angel had any issues with crossing boundaries before.

Sam rubs his forehead and pushes himself up onto one elbow, looking around the room. Lucifer is standing by the window, watching him. His face is drawn.

"How are you?"

Sam looks at him. Lucifer's concern for him is taking some getting used to. "I'm sore."

Lucifer nods but doesn't say anything else. Sam feels uneasy at the ease of which Lucifer lets it go.

"Can I see?" Lucifer asks finally. "I would like to see the damage I've caused you."

Sam is struck by the request. He wasn't expecting that.

Sam looks at him, really looks at him, and what he sees surprises him. Lucifer looks genuine in his concern.

Lucifer puts up his hands. "I won't heal you if you don't want me to. I just want to look."

Sam sighs. Then without a good explanation for why he's doing it, he lifts his arm and raises his shirt.

Lucifer seems truly horrorstruck by the dark red and purple bruising that marrs his side. He walks over to Sam and reaches out to him, like he needs to touch it.

Just as Lucifer's fingertips brush against Sam's skin, Sam curls back from the touch.

"Let me heal you," Lucifer pleads.

Sam looks into his eyes and sees nothing he expected to. They are gentle and nearly kind, nothing like the Devil should be.

Sam finds himself nodding before even realizes it. The next thing he feels is Lucifer's cool hand gently pressing over the broken rib. Sam feels a rush of energy pass through him, and then the pain is gone as if it was never there. He stretches tentatively, but there is no protest from his injury. He has been healed.

"Thank you," Sam says before he can stop himself.

Lucifer smiles. "It was my pleasure."

Sam scowls at him. "Was breaking it your pleasure, too?"

Lucifer's smile fades. "I have told you already, Sam, I don't want to hurt you."

"So far you've haven't shown that very well."

"It was an accident," Lucifer says. "In my defence, you are a very aggravating human."

Sam sighs and looks at Lucifer. "You're one to talk. I don't see how you can say anything about humanity when you've only seen the bad."

Lucifer waves a hand at him dismissively. "I have seen all I need to see. Your race thrives on conflict and rage. You start wars and destroy your planet with abandon. This great creation of my father's is being destroyed by your kind, and you are all aware of it, yet you do nothing to stop it."

Sam opens his mouth to protest, but he falls silent, at a loss for words. Lucifer has a point.

"See, you can't refute my words."

"It's not all bad. There's good out there too if you look for it."

A slow smile creeps over Lucifer's face. "Very well, Sam Winchester. Show me the good of humanity."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading.

Dean wakes on a dirty floor to burning pain and a sensation of impending doom. His mind takes a moment to present him with memories of what happened before he was knocked out. When the memories come, they make him lurch to his feet and cry out his brother's name.

"Sam!"

He roots through his pocket and pulls out his phone. Dialing the familiar number, he waits as it rings, and then Castiel's familiar voice comes over the receiver.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean runs a hand through his hair. "Cas, man, we've got a problem. I need you to come get me."

"Where are you?"

"Canton, Ohio. Hang on, give me a second." He makes his way out onto the street again,and looks for something to locate him. He sees a sign on a corner illuminated by the streetlight. "I'm on the corner of Park and Main," he says. "Outside a deli."

"I am coming now," Castiel says, and then the phone goes dead.

Dean has all of five seconds to pace and worry as he waits before he hears the rustling sound that portends Castiel's arrival.

Castiel smiles and then his expression becomes solemn as he sees Dean's torn and bloodstained shirt. "You're injured." He steps forward and peers at the gashes on Dean's chest.

"Never mind that," Dean says, waving him off. "We've got bigger problems at the moment. Sam said yes!"

Castiel's eyes widen. "What happened?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure. One minute we're being chased by hellhounds, and the next, Sam's shouting to Lucifer and knocking me out."

Castiel shakes his head. "This is not good."

"Ya think?" Dean's hands fist at his sides. "The dumb bastard said yes to the Devil. Things don't get much worse than this."

Castiel sighs. "Well, there is nothing to do now but wait."

"Wait?" Dean growls. "Seriously. The world is about to come crashing down around us and you want to wait!"

"I am open to suggestions," Castiel says serenely. "What do you think we should do?"

Dean huffs out a breath and resumes his pacing. His mind races as he proposes and discounts plans in the blink of an eye. What matters to him now is Sam. He needs to see him.

"We need to call Chuck," he says.

"To what end?"

"He's the writer. He'll know where I can find Sam."

Castiel sighs and looks oddly sympathetic. "Your brother is gone, Dean."

"He's not dead!" Dean says vehemently.

"I didn't say he was dead. I said he was gone. If Lucifer has taken Sam as his vessel, your brother will be repressed and unreachable. There is nothing you can do now."

Dean waves away Castiel's words and pulls his phone from his pocket again. Scrolling through his contacts, he finds Chuck's number and presses the call button.

Chuck's voice comes over the receiver. He doesn't sound drunk or drowsy, which is an oddity in itself. "I've been waiting for your call," he says.

"And you didn't think to warn us?" Dean says with barely repressed rage.

"I couldn't interfere," Chuck says. "The angels were pretty firm about it."

"You know what? Screw the angels, and screw you, too," Dean shouts. "My brother's just given himself up to Satan and you didn't want to interfere. What good are you?"

"He hasn't said yes, Dean," Chuck said softly.

Dean is brought up short by that. His breath huffs out of him in a whoosh. "He hasn't?" His voice comes out small and uncertain. "Then what the hell is Lucifer doing to him?" Vile images come to Dean's mind of Sam being tortured as Lucifer works towards that coveted yes.

"So far, Lucifer's healed his wounds and now he's watching him sleep."

Chuck's words take some time to sink in, and when they do, Dean finds himself at a loss for words. Of all the scenarios he thought up, none of them included Lucifer taking care of Sam.

"As far as I can tell, he's not in any immediate danger," Chuck says.

"No danger? He's with Lucifer, Satan, the guy working to end the world."

Chuck sighed. "I can't predict the future, Dean. I can only tell you what I've seen. At the moment, Sam is being taken care of. You on the other hand, are not. You need to go to Bobby's so he can take care of you."

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Chuck cuts him off.

"Dean, you won't do your brother any good like this. Go to Bobby's. I'll call you as soon as I see anything new."

"The hell with that! Screw Bobby's! We're coming straight to you."

"Actually, you won't. In about five seconds Cas is going to knock you out and take you to Bobby's anyway."

Dean turns on his heel and scowls at Castiel just as the angels reaches forward and presses his fingertips to Dean's temple.

xXx

Dean awakens to the painful sensation of someone tugging at his flesh. He opens his eyes and looks around as the memories come flooding back. Bobby is bent over him, stitching the wounds on his chest.

Bobby puts a hand on his shoulder. "Don't move. I'm almost done."

Dean slumps back on the couch, looking down at the damage. "Did Cas fill you in?"

Bobby shakes his head as he pulls the last stitch through. "Nope. He dropped you on my couch and then disappeared again.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No, and I was too busy keeping you from bleeding out on my couch to ask." Bobby snips the thread and then lays a white gauze dressing over his wound. "So, care to tell me how you ended up looking like this? It looks like a hellhound used you as a chew toy."

Dean runs a hand through his hair. "That's because it did."

Bobby gapes at him. "A hellhound?"

Dean nods. "Yeah, me and Sam were coming down of a gig in Ohio when we were attacked."

"How did you get away?" Bobby asks. Then he pales. "Hang on! Where's Sam?"

"He's not dead," Dean says immediately, seeing the fear in Bobby's eyes. "He's being taken care of."

"And you're not together, because...?"

Dean raises his eyes to look into Bobby's. "He's with Lucifer."

Bobby exhales a shaky breath. "He said yes."

"That's where things get a little vague," Dean says. "According to Chuck, no. He says Sam is asleep and Satan is watching him."

Bobby frowns. "Boy, you ain't making a lick of sense."

Dean shrugs. "I'm just as confused as you are, Bobby. Sam and me were running from the hellhounds then Sam was shouting to Lucifer and knocking me out." He rubs at his sore jaw. "When I woke up he was gone."

Bobby tugs off his caps and runs a hand through his greying hair. "So, he's with Lucifer, but he hasn't said yes."

Dean nods. "Not yet anyway."

Bobby huffs a laugh. "One thing you gotta say about Sam, he keeps things interesting."

Dean can't find any amusement in the situation. He is about to say so when there is a rustling sound from Bobby's study. A moment later, Castiel appeared again, and he wasn't alone.

"Chuck?" Dean says. "What are you doing here?"

"Castiel asked me very nicely if I would like to come and stay with you guys," he says with a nervous laugh. "There was no threatening involved. I came of my own free will." He looks up as he spoke, as if expecting some divine voice to respond to him.

Recognizing a new facet in Chuck's already erratic behavior, Dean quirks a brow at Castiel.

"You went to get Chuck?"

Castiel nods. "I thought you would feel better if you could speak with the prophet in person."

"You thought right," Dean says, pushing himself off of the couch and advancing on Chuck. "Tell me what's happening."

"I would if I could, but I don't know anything more than I told you. It's not like I've had a nap since we last talked."

Dean looks at Castiel. "Cas, put him to sleep."

Castiel steps back from Chuck and raises his hands in the air. "I would but I don't want to incur the wrath of Raphael again. So far he has been understanding of our need, and he hasn't felt the need to smite anyone, but I don't want to tempt him."

Chuck nods enthusiastically. "Good idea. No smiting."

Dean sighs and cups his chin in his hand. "Okay, no angel mojo knocking you out. How about we make you a cup of cocoa and all stay real quiet so you can get some sleep?"

Chuck laughs nervously. "Cocoa won't cut it. You got any whiskey?"

Bobby wheels himself over to the table and picks up the half drunk bottle of whiskey there. He hands it to Chuck who takes a swig from the bottle.

"That's better," he says with a smile, and then he becomes serious. "I don't know any more of what's happening to Sam now, but I do know what happened before. Lucifer made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

"What is he, the godfather?" Dean scoffs.

"Yeah, um, maybe," Chuck says and then laughs again. "He is the king of Hell."

"What was the offer?" Bobby asks.

Chuck takes another swig of whiskey and begins to speak. "Lucifer came to Sam in a dream a couple of days ago. He told Sam he would hunt you, Dean, until Sam gave up. The hellhounds were his tools. Sam knew when they came after you what would happen. He couldn't watch you die like that again, so he called Lucifer off."

Dean looks out of the window. He can feel the eyes of everyone in the room upon him, but he couldn't bear to make eye contact with them.

Sam did this for him. The knowledge makes it all so much harder to bear. Sam was with Lucifer now to save him. Whatever he suffered under Lucifer, it would be Dean's fault.

"So, what do we do next?" Bobby asks, breaking the tense silence of the room.

Dean turns to Chuck. "Is there anything else we should know?"

Chuck looks uncomfortable. "I don't think so."

"Okay then," Bobby says. "Then I say it's time Chuck here got a little shuteye. Dean here'll show you where you can bed down. It's nothing fancy, mind."

Chuck looks relieved. "Do you mind if I take this to bed with me?" he asks, holding up the bottle of whiskey.

"Go ahead."

Dean leads Chuck up the stairs to the second bedroom and says goodnight to him at the door. Then he goes downstairs again to where Bobby and Cas are waiting for him.

"He's quite the character," Bobby says. "You did good bringing him here, Cas."

Dean nods. "You really did, though at a hell of a risk. What if Raphael had come down on you again?"

"Then I would have fallen," Castiel says simply. "I was lucky though, he did not smite me. He seems to be remarkably amiable compared to the last time I met with him, which is all for the better."

Dean and Bobby merely looked their confusion, and Castiel sighed.

"With Chuck comes Raphael, the archangel. As long as Chuck is under your protection here, you are under Raphael's."

Dean marvels at his friend's cunning. "Dammit, Cas, you never cease to amaze me."

Castiel looks pleased at the praise.

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby says. "You're a frickin' genius. Now, what the hell are we going to do about Sam?"

xXx

Though he doesn't expect to, Dean does sleep that night. He wakes to the smell of coffee and the sounds of soft voices downstairs.

He throws back his blankets and pulls on a pair of jeans. As he makes his way down the stairs he hears a snatch of Bobby and Castiel's conversation.

"Do you think Dean will be okay?" Castiel asks.

There is a rustling sound and Dean pictures Bobby taking off his cap to rake a hand through his hair, as he always does when he's thinking hard. "Honest answer, I don't know. Him and Sam don't seem to work right when they're separated. The sooner we get Sam back, the better for them both."

"That seems an insurmountable task," Castiel says. "Wresting Sam from the Devil's grasp."

Castiel's words reach Dean and he sighs. It is a tall order, but they've got to do it. They have no choice. They can't leave Sam with Lucifer.

He makes his way down the stairs and enters the study where Bobby is seated at his desk and Castiel is standing in the corner. They both look abashed as he enters, but Dean brazens it out, as if he didn't hear them talking about him.

"Where's Chuck?" he asks.

"He's not up yet," Bobby says. "We figured it was best to let him sleep. The more he sleeps, the more he sees."

Dean nods and crosses through the arch into the kitchen. He pours himself a cup of coffee and sips it slowly. What he would really like is a belt of whiskey, that would ease his nerves a little, but he doesn't want to add fire to Bobby and Castiel's worry for him. He and Sam don't work right when they're apart, and it's killing him knowing Sam is trapped with Lucifer because of him, but he's damned if he's going to let them see it.

He makes his way back into the study and perches on the edge of Bobby's bed. He sips at his coffee and waits for sounds of movement overhead.

He doesn't have to wait long before Chuck appears. He scrubs a hand through his beard and yawns widely as he plods into the study.

"Morning," he says in a sleepy voice.

Castiel and Bobby both greet him, but Dean asks the question that is burning through him. "What did you see?"

Chuck drops his hand and looks into Dean's eyes. "Sam is okay."

Dean gestures for more, and Chuck shakes his head. "What do you want to know?"

"What are they doing? How is Sam coping? Has Lucifer hurt him? I want to know everything."

"It doesn't work like that, Dean. I can't tell you everything. Until I've written it down, it won't make sense."

"You want us to wait while you type it all up nice and pretty?" Dean asks, incredulity dripping from his tone.

Chuck shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know any other way. This is how I focus my thoughts." He looks at Bobby. "Do you have a computer?"

Bobby shakes his head. "Never had need of one. I've got a typewriter."

Chuck looks like someone has just told him he's due for a coffee enema. "I guess that'll be okay," he says reluctantly.

"It's in the garage," Bobby says. "Under that pile of dust sheets."

Dean nods and goes out to the garage to collect the typewriter. As he passes Bobby's beat up Chevelle he thinks of the Impala. He left her in Canton, and at some point he will need to go pick her up, but not yet. It can wait till they get Sam back.

He finds the typewriter, and he carries it back into the house and sets it on the kitchen table. "Here you go, Chuck. Time to get your writer mojo on."

Chuck sits down at the table, and begins to hammer away the the keys. Dean hovers at his shoulder for the first five minutes, but Chuck tells him he's being distracting, so Dean paces the length of the room instead, trying to hold back the growl of frustration building in him. He has never felt more useless. Sam is being held by Satan, and all he can do it stand and wait for Chuck to finish a chapter.

After over an hour of waiting, Chuck pulls the last sheet of paper from the typewriter and hands it to Dean, looking apologetic.

"I would just like to remind you that I don't control what happens, I just write about it," he says.

Dean feels a twist of fear in his gut. He wants to ask Chuck what he means, but he isn't sure he wants to hear the answer. He satisfies himself with skimming through the pages of Sam's first day with Lucifer. He feels a wave of frustration when he reads that Sam is worrying about him when Sam is the one being held captive. He runs a hand over the dressing on his chest. The cuts are tender, but not really painful.

It doesn't seem too bad until he reaches the last couple of pages. Then he reads aloud for Bobby and Castiel's benefit.

"Lucifer roars and throws his arm up. Just as he does, Sam is thrown back by an invisible force. He hits the wall hard and it knocks the wind out of him. He gasps for breath. Lucifer turns and stares at him, eyes dark. Sam clutches his side. He's pretty sure he's broken a rib. He takes a slow breath and feels it pull painfully. He winces despite himself."

Dean takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself before he speaks. "He breaks my brother's rib," he says in a low dangerous voice.

Chuck nods. "If you keep reading, you'll see that he heals him, too."

Dean throws the pages into the air and they flutter gracefully to the floor. "He breaks my brother's rib!"

"Calm down, Dean," Bobby says firmly. "It's not Chuck's fault. Like he says, he doesn't control it, he just writes it."

Dean's breaths come heavy and tense. "I need to know before I read anymore, does it get worse?" He feels like a coward for asking, but he doesn't think he will be able to keep reading if he knows his brother is being hurt. All his years in hell prepared him for dealing with torture but for not that of his brother.

Chuck shakes his head vigorously. "No, it's okay. Lucifer will heal Sam and then they'll talk a little more before Sam falls asleep again."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Castiel says. "We must be thankful."

Thankful, Dean thinks. His brother is being held hostage by the Devil and the only source of good news is that it was only a broken rib.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you that are reading. We know this is a niche fic and we appreciate you giving our story a chance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading.

Sam sits beside Lucifer on the park bench, looking over the park. It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining. The grass is green. It's perfect. There are kids playing with their families all around them. If there was ever something to show Lucifer, it was this.

"Look over there," Sam says, pointing to a mother and her three kids. The two eldest are playing ball while the youngest toddles around her mother's legs. "How can you deny that's good?"

Lucifer rolls his eyes and leans back, folding his hands in his lap. He looks over at Sam and smirks. "The mother is an alcoholic. I can smell it from here."

Sam frowns and looks back to the mother and her children. "That's not the point."

"Then what is? She drove here drunk, with her kids, with no regard for their safety. I wouldn't call that a stellar example of humanity."

Sam shakes his head and looks around. He points to another child, who is knelt beside his injured friend. "There, look at that boy, look at the way he is helping the other."

"You are seeing the fallout of an argument, Sam. The child that is being oh so helpful now was the one to injure his friend in the first place. He pushed him over because he wouldn't share a toy. He was envious." Lucifer lays heavy emphasis on the word. "You remember envy, don't you, Sam? It is one of those marvelous sins my father so deplores."

Sam rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. The Devil seems amused by this, and he watches Sam carefully.

"All humans are dark at their core," Lucifer says. "My demons prove that. Do you know why I created them?"

Sam shrugs. "Because you were lonely?"

Lucifer throws back his head and laughs. "No, but one of your human psychiatrists would disagree. I created them to prove a point. My father asked me to bow before you humans, because you were such a magnificent race, with your emotions and wishes and desires. I took one of his creations and tore it down to its base instincts, and you know what I found? Demons."

"Lilith," Sam says in a bitter tone. "She was your first, wasn't she?"

Lucifer looks nostalgic. "My first and greatest. She was a work of art. She proved my point. When I tore away the cushioning of humanity, there was a dark creature underneath. You remember her, don't you, Sam?"

Sam scowls at the ground, barely suppressing a shudder. He remembers Lilith all too well. He remembers the people she killed and the things she did. He also remembers killing her and starting this whole mess in the first place. If he had not become so blinded by his vendetta, none of this would be happening now. He wouldn't be sitting in a park with the Devil trying to persuade him of the good of humanity.

"I paid for it, of course. My father sent my brother, my family after me. He sent Michael. He cast me into the cage for what my father deemed as sins."

Sam looks over at Lucifer feeling a slight twinge of sympathy. As much as he doesn't want to, he can relate to the Devil's plight. Sam's own father had primed Dean to kill him, but thankfully, Dean wasn't a coward. Dean fought back and rebelled. He can only imagine the pain Lucifer faced having his brother turn on him.

"I'm sorry," Sam says before he can stop himself. "I know how it feels to have your family turn on you."

"Ah, yes, your father instructed your brother to kill you," Lucifer says. "I remember."

Sam starts. "How do you know about that?"

"Sam." The Devil smiles indulgently. "When are you going to learn? You belong to me. I know everything about you."

"I don't belong to anyone," Sam snaps.

Suddenly, Lucifer stiffens, and his gaze snaps to his right. "We should leave," he says stiffly.

"What?" Sam is taken off guard by the tense set of Lucifer's features. He looks worried. Sam wonders what the Devil could possibly have to worry about.

Just then, Sam hears it, a muffled gagging sound and a woman's frantic pleas.

It's the woman Sam pointed out before, the one Lucifer said was an alcoholic. She is kneeling beside her daughter, patting her fruitlessly on the back.

"Cough it up, Sarah," she says frantically.

Sam is in motion before he realizes what is happening. He drops to his knees beside the child and smacks her hard on the back.

The candy the child was choking on flies out of her mouth and lands inconsequentially on the dirt. The child draws a shaky breath and promptly bursts into tears.

The mother throws her arms around her daughter and peppers her face with kisses. "Oh, Sarah!"

Forgotten in the maelstrom of emotional outpouring, Sam climbs to his feet and turns back to where Lucifer is standing, staring at him, looking stunned. Shaking his head, Lucifer steps toward Sam and reaches out a hand to grip Sam's arm.

There is the disconcerting sensation of being in two places at once. Then Sam finds himself standing on the threadbare carpet of their motel room.

"How did you do that?" Lucifer asks.

Sam frowns. "How did I stop a kid from choking to death? It's pretty basic first aid, Lucifer."

"No, I mean how did you manage to avert the child's path?"

Sam shrugs. "I don't know what you mean."

Lucifer looks solemn. "That child was slated to die today, but you saved her. How did you do it?"

"I don't know, I just did."

Lucifer shakes his head. "You are remarkable."

Sam shifts uncomfortably. "How did you know she was supposed to die?"

"I saw the reaper. That's why I tried to get you away."

Sam gapes at him. "Why would you that? You're an angel. You could have saved her."

"I think you are missing one salient point here, Sam. I am the Devil. I don't help humans. I help myself."

"You helped me," Sam says. "You healed me."

"Because you are special," Lucifer says simply. "You are mine. We're meant to be together."

"You say that like it's supposed to mean something," Sam says in a tired voice. "When all it really means is that I am supposed to be your meat suit for the apocalypse."

Lucifer sighs and looks out of the grubby window. "No, Sam. It means so much more than that."

Sam throws himself down on the bed and curls onto his side. "I am going to sleep now."

"It's only three," Lucifer says, sounding bewildered. "You cannot be tired already."

Sam huffs. "I can't go out. I can't call my brother. I can't do anything but talk to you. I choose sleep."

"Very well," Lucifer says. "You sleep."

 

xXx

Lucifer watches Sam as his breaths fall into the soft sighs of sleep, and he frowns. He would like to experience sleep. It looks like such a peaceful state. He hasn't felt peace since before he was cast out of heaven. Everything since then has been hard and cold, and more recently, confusing.

Before Sam came along, life was simple. He was working towards a solid goal: creating a paradise on earth for him alone to enjoy. Humans would be subjugated and cast aside.

His first thought when he saw the reaper was to get Sam away before he had to witness the child's death. He never thought to intervene, it wasn't in his nature, but Sam had, and that was remarkable. Sam had saved the small child and averted her death.

Sam was a human, his vessel, nothing more than that, yet he found himself caring and it unnerved him. Physical healing was one thing, he needed his vessel healthy, but trying to avoid the reaping, that was something different. He had done that to protect Sam from emotional harm.

There is a knock at the door and Lucifer turns on his heel, brow furrowed.

He walks over to the door and pulls it open. Meg, his lieutenant, is standing there greeting him with a smile. She is carrying a jug of demon blood in each hand. Lucifer steps aside to let her pass. She walks over to the table and sets the jugs down. Then she looks over at the bed and takes a step back, quickly turning to face Lucifer.

"Is that Sam Winchester?" she asks boldly.

Lucifer scowls at her. "I don't believe that's any of your business."

Meg shuts her mouth and looks away. "The blood is fresh," she says, motioning to where the jugs sat on the table.

Lucifer nods and gestures toward the door. "That will be all, Meg."

Meg nods, and with one last look at Sam, leaves the room.

As Lucifer turns back to the bed, he sees Sam's eyes are open and he is looking directly at Lucifer. He looks furious.

"Is something wrong, Sam?" Lucifer asks.

"Meg," Sam spits, pushing himself up in the bed so he is leaning against the headboard.

"Ahh, yes, I imagine you are unhappy to see her again. How is Mr. Singer?"

Sam scowls. "He was just fine till your little friend racked up and stuck him in a wheelchair."

Lucifer taps a finger against his chin. "I could heal him, you know. All it would take is a simple yes." There is no real expectation behind the words. He is merely playing his part.

Sam shakes his head. "I know Bobby'd rather spend the rest of his life in that chair than have me say yes to you."

Lucifer shrugs. "So be it." He pauses and looks thoughtful for a moment. "If it upsets you to see her, I will make sure she is replaced by another of my lieutenants."

Sam frowns. "Why do you care if I'm upset?"

The question stymies the Devil. He doesn't know why he cares for Sam's feelings; he only knows that he does.

Sam looks around the room, and his eyes fall on the jugs of blood on the table. "Is that what I think it is?" he asks.

Lucifer looks at the table, and he feels a pang of some unknown emotion. He does not recognize it, as he has never felt guilt before.

"It is demon blood," he confirms.

"I'm not drinking that!" Sam says angrily.

"No one has asked you to," Lucifer says serenely. "It is for me. Nick is not my true vessel, and there are things that must be done to prevent him deteriorating." He gestures to his clear visage. "You don't want to imagine what I would look like without it."

"You're going to drink that?" Sam asks, looking nervous.

Lucifer understands. For Sam to watch him drinking the blood that he has only now learned to resist, would be like a human junkie watching someone else shooting up. He cannot bring himself to put Sam through that.

He picks up the jugs and makes his way to the door. "I will retire to one of my lieutenant's rooms to do what must be done. I shall be back presently. Oh, Sam, someone will be watching."

He steps out and closes the door behind him. He can hear Sam's sigh of relief through the door.

xXx

Sam stares at the closed door and wonders if Lucifer is done feeding yet. He wants the blood gone. The thought of it being so close calls to him like a siren song. He blames it on the situation he finds himself in, but in his heart, he knows he would struggle wherever he was. Once an addict, always an addict.

He forces thoughts of demon blood aside, and concentrates on his immediate predicament. He is trapped with Lucifer for the foreseeable future, possibly forever. He doesn't doubt that Dean will try to save him, but he knows he will fail. Even with Castiel and Bobby's help, they are no match for the Devil.

The worst part of his captivity with the Devil, as far as Sam is concerned, is that he is separated from his brother. He can't talk to Dean or plan with him, or more importantly, fight alongside him. The war is continuing outside this motel room, and there is nothing he can do about it. It's worse than that though, not only is he benched, he's stuck with the creature leading it all, and there is nothing he can do.

Or maybe there is something.

Despite the fact he is a prisoner, he is in a position of power; he just didn't realize it before now. He is at Lucifer's right hand, beneath the dragon's wing. If he can just maneuver himself into a position of trust, he could learn it all, all Lucifer's plans, his goals and more importantly, how he is going to achieve them. Then, if he ever gets away, he and Dean will be armed with all the information needed to defeat the Devil. Maybe even if he isn't able to get away. If he can just get a hold of a weapon, a real weapon, he can do the job himself.

Sam's path is laid out before him, though he is loathe to accept it. Lucifer says that Sam is more than his vessel. Sam needs to find out what he means by that and how he can use it against him. His first task has to be letting go of the resentment he feels towards Lucifer for essentially kidnapping him.

He's got to be his friend.

When Lucifer comes back into the room, he is holding a paper sack with the name Mindy's Diner on it. He holds it out to Sam with an indulgent smile.

"Did you go buy this yourself?" Sam asks, thinking that the first step in this friendship thing has to be civil conversation.

Lucifer rolls his eyes. "I am the Devil, Sam. I don't do food runs. I sent someone out to get it for you."

"It wasn't Meg was it?" Sam asks.

"Would it matter if it was?"

Sam shrugs. "I don't trust her not to spit in it."

Lucifer frowns. "It was a lesser demon by the name of Keith that fetched it for you. But even if it had been Meg, she would not have dared to spit in your food. She knows better than to incur my wrath like that."

Sam thinks on that for a moment. Lucifer seems genuinely offended at the idea and more than willing to vent his wrath on Meg. Sam files that away for future reference. He owes Meg, and if he can steer Lucifer towards killing her, all's the better.

"Are you going to eat?" Lucifer asks.

Sam nods and takes the bag of food. He opens the Styrofoam package and finds a salad with a separate container of dressing. It's exactly what he would have chosen for himself. He wonders how Lucifer knows so much about him, but he doesn't ask. He isn't sure he wants to hear the answer.

He forks up his food, watched the whole time by Lucifer. When he finishes, Lucifer looks satisfied, as if Sam has passed some test.

"Do you need more?" Lucifer asks.

"No, that was fine," Sam says.

"You will have to prompt me for these things," Lucifer says. "I have watched humanity for millennia, but I admit I am not an expert." He smiles. "I am doing my best though."

Sam thinks he sounds like the proud owner of a new puppy. He thinks of making a comment about it, and then he remembers his newfound determination to be the Devil's friend. No more snarky comments for him.

Lucifer taps his fingers on the table and looks thoughtful.

"Is something wrong?" Sam asks.

Lucifer rests his chin in his hand. "I don't know what to do with you now."

Sam raises an eyebrow, thinking back to the puppy thing again. "You don't need to do anything with me, Lucifer."

"I want to be a good host," Lucifer says earnestly, as if he can't see the gaping contradiction in his words. He's not a host; he is a hostage taker.

"I can amuse myself," Sam says.

"Really? What do you do?" Lucifer sounds genuinely interested, as if Sam's pastimes are of vital importance to him.

Sam runs a hand through his hair. Everything he usually does to amuse himself is inextricably linked with Dean. They would go to a ball game, or they would go see a concert on the rare downtime between hunts. Not since Stanford has Sam had time that is completely his own to do what he wants with, and now he has it, all he wants to do is talk to his brother.

Sam sighs. "I guess I read or play cards. I don't know really. It's been a long time since I've had time to myself. There's hasn't been that much time, you know?"

Lucifer's expression changes to something unreadable. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Sam shrugs. "It's all right."

"Do you want to play cards now?" Lucifer says, tilting his head to the side.

Sam looks over at Lucifer, raising his brows. "You want to play cards with me?"

Lucifer frowns. "Why not?"

"You're the Devil," Sam laughs. "Won't you cheat?"

"I promise you, I won't cheat. It's the same as lying, and I said I wouldn't do that to you."

Sam nods and then looks around. "We're going to need some cards."

Lucifer nods and gets to his feet. "I think there are some in the other room. I recall seeing a poker game a couple of nights ago."

"You're going to break into another room?" Sam asks, though why is surprised he doesn't know. He is the Devil after all.

Lucifer sighs heavily. "Your low opinion of me hurts. The game I am referring to was taking place between my lieutenants."

"Demons play cards?"

"There are a lot of hours in the day to fill when you are evil," he says in a conversational tone. "It can't be all mutilating puppies and wreaking havoc in small towns. Sometimes they like to relax." He winks at Sam and leaves the room.

Unless Sam is very much mistaken, the Devil just made a joke. The thought makes him huff out a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Lucifer comes back with a pack of cards in hand, and he tosses them to Sam. Sam shuffles the pack and deals.

"Do you know how to play?" he asks.

Lucifer shakes his head indulgently. "Sometimes your obtuseness amazes me, Sam," he says. "Do you really think I could have lived as long as I have without learning to play poker? Do you know how many souls have come my way through a game of cards? Addicts will do anything for a little luck, even make demon deals."

Sam raises his head from the cards. "People trade their souls for a good hand at poker?"

"Humans." Lucifer says it like it explains everything, which to him, Sam guesses it does.

He sets the stack back in the middle of the table. "We've got nothing to bet with."

Lucifer smiles and Sam feels a chill creep down his back. "We could bet a yes," he says.

Sam scowls. "That's not funny, Lucifer."

Lucifer looks unabashed. "It wasn't supposed to be."

Sam throws down his cards. "I am not risking the fate of humanity on a hand of cards." He pushes his chair away from the table and gets to his feet. "You know, I'm not in the mood for cards anymore."

Lucifer looks genuinely disappointed. "Don't be like that, Sam."

"I'm not being like anything," Sam says. He has forgotten his mission to ingratiate himself with the Devil in his frustration. "I'm just not in the mood to pretend this is something other than what it is. I'm your hostage, nothing more."

Lucifer frowns and gets to his feet. "Very well. I will leave you in peace." He crosses the room and clicks the door closed behind him.

Sam watches him go, and his mind reels. He feels a pang of something he can't quite place. It's like remorse, but he can't possibly be feeling remorse for hurting the Devil's feelings.

Can he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone to that's reading and a special thanks to all those that are reviewing. We really appreciate it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, Kazluvsbooks, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading.

When Sam wakes the next morning, he's alone. He rolls over and stretches, looking around. There is a paper sack from Mindy's Diner on the table, but other than that the room is unchanged from how he left it.

He gets out of bed and crosses the room. Beside the sack of food there is a note.

Sam, I will be otherwise occupied this morning. Please entertain yourself. I left you a pack of cards. L.

Sam puzzles over the note for a moment, trying to convince himself that the note is real, that it is an actual missive from the Devil. It seems too surreal to be true. Then the impact of the note hits him. Lucifer is gone. He is alone.

He is in motion before realizes what he is doing. He drags on his jeans and pulls a shirt on. Stuffing his feet into his unlaced boots, he crosses the room in three strides and pulls open the door.

He steps outside into the parking lot, barely believing his luck. He expected to meet resistance, but there is none, except...

"Going somewhere," a familiar voice asks.

Sam turns on his heel and is met with the smug face of Meg. Her eyes are the onyx black that betrays her true self.

"Just getting some air," he says lightly, inwardly cursing.

"Lucky for you, that is on your list of approved activities," Meg says. "But stealing cars and attempting to escape aren't."

Sam glares at her. "Who said I was escaping?"

Meg looks amused. "Nobody said you were. This is just a friendly reminder. You made a deal, with the devil no less, that you would stay with him in return for your brother's protection. Dean is officially under Lucifer's protection at the moment. We're not allowed near him. Break that deal and it will be open season on the eldest Winchester."

Sam scowls and scuffs the parking lot with the toe of his boot. He is trapped and he knows it, but he will be damned if he is going to let Meg see it, too.

"Have you had enough air, or would you like to stay out here a little longer?" she asks with a truly demonic smile.

Sam looks across the parking lot to the street. There are people walking past, paying no attention to his exchange with the demon. He guesses he should be grateful that they don't know, as if they did they would surely be killed, but part of him wants to shout to them for help. It's a small, cowardly part of him, and he finds it easy to quash the urge.

"I think I'm done," he says, walking past her and going back into his room.

"Good," Meg says with satisfaction. "I wouldn't want to have to tell Lucifer you have been a bad pet."

"Pet?" Sam scoffs. "I don't think he'd like to hear you calling me that." Sam is satisfied to see her already pale skin lighten. "That's what I thought," he says.

"Go inside, Winchester," she says with bravado. "Your master will be back soon."

Sam actually laughs, a full, honest laugh. "My master? Lucifer may be a lot of things, but one thing he will never be is my master. Can you say the same?"

Meg steps forward threateningly. "Keep sweet talking and I will finish the job I started on Singer. I hear he's in a wheelchair now. How's about we make it a coffin?"

Sam tries not to show the fear he feels. "You could, but that would upset Lucifer."

"You prepared to bet your friend's life on that?" she asks. "We can't touch your brother, but Lucifer said nothing about any of your other friends."

Sam wanted to attack her, but he knew it would do nothing but bloody his fists. The truth is that she has him on the ropes, and she knows it. He needs Lucifer to come back so he can amend his deal. He needs to make sure Bobby is taken care of, too, and Castiel. He can't be with them but that doesn't mean he can't protect them.

Powerless in his rage, Sam strides into his room and slams the door in Meg's face. Once inside, he leans back against the door and breathes a sigh of relief. He can hear Meg's laughter on the other side, and it burns at him.

He opens the package of food, more out of a desire for something to do than hunger, and sits at the table to eat his now cold pancakes. After a few bites, he pushes them away.

He rests his head in his hands and thinks over his situation. He now has a pissed off demon gunning for Bobby. He hopes her fear of Lucifer and her apparent appointment as his guard will keep her from carrying out her threat, but he can't be sure. He tells himself Bobby is wily, and that Dean and Castiel are surely there with him by now, but that doesn't assuage his fear. He wishes Lucifer was back already, then he could elicit the promise for Bobby's protection from him.

He spends the morning alternately pacing the small room and lying on the bed with an arm thrown over his face. He is overwhelmed with nervous energy one moment and then lethargy that makes even breathing feel like a task too great to manage sweeps through him.

When the fallen angel returns, Sam is laying on the bed thinking of his brother and wondering what's happening to him now.

As the door swings open, he jerks upright.

"What's wrong?" Lucifer asks, concern creasing his brow.

"You're back!" Sam says before he can stop himself.

Lucifer smiles. It is a rare genuine smile devoid of mocking. He seems truly pleased by Sam's reaction. "I didn't think you would note my absence."

Sam shrugs. "There's something I need you to do for me."

"Anything," Lucifer says and then amends. "Well, almost anything."

"I need you to keep your demons away from Bobby and Castiel."

Lucifer nods. "Of course. Are you concerned for their safety? I can send someone to check on them for you."

Sam laughs. "I don't see that ending well. Bobby would exorcise them before they've even crossed the yard."

Lucifer smiles indulgently. "That is a possibility, of course. I can't have that. I need all the soldiers I can get. Tell me, why are you suddenly concerned for your friends?"

"I had a chat with Meg earlier," Sam says.

Lucifer's expression darkens. "Has she been making a nuisance of herself?"

"No more than usual, though if you decide to smite her, I would happily cheer you on. She threatened Bobby."

Lucifer scowls. "That was wrong of her. I apologize. I will ensure that my demons know Mr. Singer is off limits."

"And Cas," Sam says.

"And Castiel. I do not believe any of my demons can pose a threat to my brother, but I will make sure they know to give him a wide berth also. Is there anything else?"

Seeing that the Devil is in a giving mood, Sam makes his next request. "Can I call Dean?"

Lucifer frowns. "I do not think that is a good idea. It will only make your separation harder to bear."

He seems genuine in his words. If Sam didn't know better, he would believe that the Devil is truly concerned for his welfare. But that was just impossible, wasn't it?

Sam sighs. "I just want to talk to him, Lucifer. Let him know I'm okay."

Lucifer shakes his head. "No, Sam. I don't think that is a good idea."

Sam throws up his hands. "What am I supposed to do? I can't call my brother. I can't go out alone. I am stuck in this motel surrounded by your demons."

Lucifer frowns, and then brightens. "My business for the day is concluded. What would you like to do?"

"I want to call my brother," Sam says, feeling childish but not able to control it.

"Don't be difficult, Sam."

"What, are you going to break another rib?" Sam says, getting to his feet and facing off against the fallen angel. "Really, Lucifer, what else am I supposed to do? I can't see my brother, I can't even call him. I have nothing left; you might as well just kill me."

Lucifer sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. "Is that all you have in life, your brother? Who are you really, Sam, just Dean Winchester's brother?"

Sam opens his mouth to argue, but the Devil's question brings him up short. He was more than just Dean's brother. He had to be.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Lucifer says, seeing Sam's stricken expression.

Sam waves away his words. He is busy thinking over what the Devil said. "I'm a hunter," he says eventually. "I am a brother and a hunter."

"And is that all you've ever wanted from life?" Lucifer asks.

"It's what matters," Sam says with finality, but Lucifer doesn't leave it there.

"You are so much more than that, Sam. I wish you could see yourself as I see you."

Lucifer seems genuine, and it takes Sam aback. He doesn't understand why Lucifer, with the world at his feet, is wasting his time inciting an existential crisis in Sam. It's not done with malice, Sam believes that, but what is it done for? Why does the Devil seem so concerned with what Sam thinks of himself? Why would be possibly care?

* * *

 

They sit in relative silence for an hour. Sam is lost in thought, and Lucifer seems content to watch Sam.

When dinner time comes around, Sam's stomach growls, and Lucifer claps his hands together. "Time to eat," he says. "What would you like?"

Sam looks up. "I don't mind. Whatever."

Lucifer frowns. "You can have anything you like."

Except the one thing he really needs - his brother. The statement goes unsaid but they both hear it anyway.

"How about you go and fetch your own meal?"

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You're going to trust me to go out alone."

Lucifer shrugs. "I do, but I was thinking I could come with you. Think of it as another experiment in your good of humanity lesson. Perhaps there will be cause for more heroism from you. I would like to see that."

Sam laughs. "It was hardly heroism, Lucifer. I stopped a kid from choking."

"Why are you so determined to miss the positive in yourself?" Lucifer asks, speaking more to himself than to Sam. "Anyway, are we going out to dine?"

Sam gets up and grabs his jacket. "Why not?"

"Why indeed?"

Sam expected to walk to the diner, but Lucifer apparently had no time to waste on walks in the evening air. One moment they were in the motel, and the next they were in a street outside a diner.

Lucifer opens the door and gestures for Sam to go in ahead of him. Sam steps inside and inhales deeply. The air smells of fresh coffee, and it's like ambrosia to him after the musty smell of the motel.

Sam makes his way over to a booth and sits down. Lucifer follows, also breathing deeply.

Sam quirks a brow at him. "What are you doing?" he asks when a few minutes have passed and Lucifer is still huffing like an asthmatic.

Lucifer looks abashed. "I am trying to understand the appeal the scent has for you. I can only smell burned coffee beans. There must be something more."

Sam smiles. "It's the burned beans that smell good. You may not notice it, but our motel room smells a bit ripe. Besides, coffee is one of the best smells there is. Sometimes..."

"What?" Lucifer asks. "Sometimes you what?"

Sam finds himself speaking without thought. "Sometimes Dean and I find motel with a kitchenette. They're great because we can brew our own coffee. I wake up some mornings, and Dean has already got the coffee going. Those are the best mornings."

Sam looks up to see Lucifer smiling indulgently at him, and he looks down at the table top.

"It doesn't matter," he says.

Lucifer looks at him intently. "It matters. You matter."

Sam opens his mouth, unsure of what he is going to say, but it doesn't matter. The waitress chooses that moment to arrive with her notepad in hand.

"What can I get you, fellas?" she asks.

Sam stifles a laugh. He wonders how she would react if she realized one of the 'fellas' she is smiling at so sweetly was the Devil.

Lucifer looks up at her and a smile curves his lips. "A coffee, please. And my friend will have..." He waves to Sam.

"The ceasar salad, please," Sam says. "And a coffee."

The waitress notes down his order and bustles back to the counter. Sam turns incredulous eyes to Lucifer.

"What was that?" he asks.

Lucifer looks confused. "What did I do? I was attempting to be polite. You humans and your rules... It's all so complicated."

"That's the thing," Sam says. "You were nice to her. A human. One of the people you seem to hate."

Lucifer shrugs. "I didn't want you to be embarrassed, so I played my part. I don't think she noticed anything amiss."

"You played the part of a human so you didn't embarrass me?"

Lucifer looks Sam in the eye and he seems to be trying to impart something significant. "You matter to me, Sam." He sees that Sam is about to say something else, but he cuts him off with a raised hand. "Not just because you are my vessel."

"Then what is it?" Sam asks. "I don't understand."

Lucifer looks a little sad. "I know you don't." He sighs out a breath and looks at his hands where they are clasped on the tabletop.

Though he doesn't understand why, seeing Lucifer looking sad affects Sam, and he rallies for a change of topic. "What were you doing this morning?" he asks.

Lucifer raises his head and looks Sam in the eye. "I don't think you really want to know the answer to that," he says.

Sam shrugs. "If you don't want to tell me..."

"I was dealing with one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse," Lucifer says simply.

Sam is unable to react for a moment. This shouldn't shock him, it's the Devil after all, but the man he envisaged as Satan and the man he has spent the last few days with don't mesh. Lucifer seems reasonable and considerate when they are talking, but now he is reminded that this is the angel working towards the end of the world.

"Anyone I know?" he asks in a voice of forced casualness.

"Pestilence," Lucifer says. "It's a little ahead of schedule, but since you and your brother did away with War I needed someone to work with."

Sam shrugs. "He was killing people."

Lucifer smiles. "And I can easily imagine how that would upset you. Though it must be said, he wasn't killing people, he was just inciting the humans' natural compulsion to murder each other. He merely freed them of their inhibitions."

"They thought they were killing demons," Sam said. "They didn't realize they were just people."

"Isn't it the same thing in the end?" Lucifer asks. "Demons, people, they are all dark at heart."

And just like that Sam realizes he is not sitting and talking with Dean or Bobby, or even Castiel with his quirks. This is the Devil sitting opposite him, and he can't let himself forget that.

"So," Sam says casually, "what are your plans for Pestilence?"

Lucifer looks at him darkly. "Let's just say he is a piece in my game. A vital piece."

Sam nods as if Lucifer's answer has satisfied him, when really it hasn't. As little as he wants to hear it, he needs to know Lucifer's plans if he is to have any chance at averting them.

The waitress comes back to their table and sets a plate of food in front of Sam. "Enjoy," she says brightly, and then she walks back to the counter.

Sam prods his food with his fork. He has lost his appetite now.

"Eat," Lucifer prompts. "You need to sustain yourself."

Sam rolls his eyes. "A healthy vessel is a happy vessel, right?" He pushes away his plate. "Sorry, but all the talk of Pestilence has spoiled my appetite."

Lucifer frowns. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

The strangest thing is that Sam believes he is truly sorry, and he finds himself wanting to reassure Lucifer.

He slides his plate back over the table and picks up his fork again.

A small smile quirks Lucifer's lips as he watches. He looks satisfied.

The food sits heavy in Sam's stomach as he thinks of Pestilence and War and the impending apocalypse. The apocalypse he has a front row seat to but he can do nothing to avert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and a huge thank you to those that are reviewing. We can't express how much they mean to us.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, Kazluvsbooks, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading.  
> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

Dean wakes early the next morning, and despite the risk of being smote by a pissy archangel, he wakes Chuck by hammering on his bedroom door.

Chuck throws the door open and glares balefully at Dean. "You know, to see things I have to actually be able to sleep," he says.

"You didn't sleep?"

Chuck stretches and yawns. "No, I slept. I'm just pointing out a fact."

Dean pulls on his arm. "You can have a nap after you're done writing."

Chuck allows himself to be tugged down the stairs and into the study. Bobby is at his desk, with a thick tome open in front of him, but Castiel is nowhere in sight.

"No Cas?" Dean asks Bobby.

Bobby looks up from the book he is reading. "He said he'd be back for the pages, but there was something he had to do."

Dean shrugs and makes his way into the kitchen to pour himself a coffee. Thinking it might speed up the writing process, he pours Chuck a mug, too.

Chuck settles himself down at the typewriter and massages his temples.

"Something wrong, Chuck?" Dean asks, handing him his coffee.

"I'm not used to working with pressure like this," Chuck says.

Dean doesn't know what to say to that. He's aware that they are piling the pressure on Chuck, but he's their only lifeline to Sam at the moment. Without him, they are at a loss to know what's happening.

He shifts uncomfortably. "Is there anything we can do?"

Chuck shakes his head, and then he brightens. "You could get me a computer to work with. Not that the typewriter isn't great"—he casts Bobby a smile—"but I am used to working with technology, not to mention a spell check."

Dean frowns. "We're not looking for the next great masterpiece, Chuck. We just need to know what's happening with Sam."

Chuck nods. "I know, I know." He cracks his knuckles and starts to type.

He works for over an hour before handing Dean a sheaf of papers to read.

"Is that it?" Dean asks.

"It's what I have so far," Chuck says. "I figure I better give you something to read before you pace a hole in Bobby's floor."

Dean accepts the sheaf of papers and skims through the words, then he breaks off and looks at Chuck. "Are you serious?" he asks.

Chuck raises his hands in front of him. "I don't control them, Dean. I just write what they're doing."

"What is it?" Bobby asks.

"They're going to the frickin' park!" Dean says incredulously. "Sam has taken the Devil to a park."

"What the hell are they doing in a park?" Bobby asks.

"Sam's trying to show Lucifer the good of humanity," Chuck intervenes.

"And he's doing that in a park!" Bobby rakes a hand through his beard. "I guess it makes sense. Is it going to work?"

Dean snorts. "Of course it's not going to work, Bobby. This is Satan we're talking about."

"Keep reading," Chuck instructs.

Dean reads aloud. "'Look over there,' Sam says, pointing to a mother and her three kids. The two oldest are playing ball while the youngest toddles around her mother's legs. 'How can you deny that's good?'" Dean sighs heavily. "Is he out of his mind? It's Satan for crap's sake!"

Bobby shakes his head. "It seems like a damn fool thing to be doing, but what else can he do?"

"But he's acting like it's normal," Dean says. "Like it's normal for him to be sitting in a park with Lucifer. He doesn't see how crazy this is. Lucifer is getting under his skin already. How is going to be able to resist him when he's already slipping."

Chuck clears his throat. "Keep reading, Dean."

Dean reads the conversation between Sam and Lucifer, and he rolls his eyes as Lucifer refutes all of Sam's examples of good with his own twisted logic. Really, what does Sam expect?

His brow furrows as he continues on. He grips the pages tightly as he comes to the section on Lilith. Like Sam, he remembers Lilith all too well. It pains him to see that Sam still carries the guilt for what he's done. It wasn't Sam's fault, not really. Who would have thought killing Lilith would be a bad thing?

Dean looks down at the pages and continues reading. "'I paid for it, of course, my father sent my brother, my family after me. He sent Michael. He cast me into the cage for what my father deemed as sins.' Sam looked over at Lucifer feeling a slight twinge of sympathy." Dean groans. "Sympathy? Really, Chuck?"

"Calm down, boy," Bobby says. "It's not Chuck's fault."

"I'm sorry if I'm not handling my brother having sympathy for the Devil well."

"You should probably take a drink then before you keep reading," Chuck says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Dean's brows knit together. "It gets worse?"

Chuck shrugs. "Depends on your definition of worse."

Dean rolls his eyes and looks back at the papers.

"As much as he didn't want to, he could relate to the Devil's plight. Sam's own father had primed Dean to kill him, but thankfully, Dean wasn't a coward. Dean fought back and rebelled. He could only imagine the pain Lucifer faced having his brother turn on him. 'I'm sorry,' Sam says before he can stop himself. 'I know how it feels to have your family turn on you.'" Dean's hands fist and crinkle the papers. "Jesus, Sammy. It wasn't like that. He didn't want me to kill you."

Bobby looks at him sympathetically. "I think he knows that, Son, but you have to admit it was a pretty shady move on your dad's part. What he did wasn't fair on either of you."

"My father was only doing what he had to," Dean says.

"I know that," Bobby says. "Maybe it's Sam that you need to talk this over with."

"I would, but in case you've forgotten, Lucifer is holding him hostage."

Bobby grips the arms of his wheelchair. "Don't go thinking you're the only one here that cares about Sam. I know you've got a lot going on, but this affects all of us."

Dean looks apologetic. "I know, Bobby. It's just..." He rakes a hand through his hair. "I'm stuck here reading about my brother and Lucifer, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I feel useless."

"We all do, but at least we know what's happening with him. If it wasn't for Chuck, we'd be completely in the dark."

Dean nods and turns to Chuck. "I'm sorry, man. I know I'm being a dick, but it's..."

"It's your brother," Chuck says. "If anyone understands that, I do."

Chuck does understand. He has been living the Sam Dean adventure story through his dreams for going on five years now, and Dean knows if there's anyone that gets it, then it's Chuck.

Before Dean can read anymore, there is a rustling sound and Castiel appears, laden with what looks like a computer and printer. He sets them down on the desk and Chuck jumps to his feet.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Castiel smiles. "I thought you would be more comfortable working with your own equipment if this arrangement is to continue."

Chuck beams at him. "You thought right. Thanks, Cas."

Castiel looks pleased with Chuck's reaction. "Ah, you are already reading. Has anything of significance happened?"

Dean shrugs. "Other than Sam buddying up with the Devil, not much."

Castiel frowns. "What do you mean?"

Dean holds out the read pages to Castiel, and the angel reads through them quickly. "Oh," he says as he comes to the last page.

"Yeah, oh," Dean says.

"I do not think you need be concerned by this," Castiel says. "Lucifer is a master at manipulation, after all. Sam is merely reacting to that side of him. It doesn't mean Sam is necessarily softening towards him."

"How's about you keep reading," Bobby says.

There are still pages left in Dean's hand that he hasn't read, and after what he's seen so far, he's not sure he wants to read them. He looks to Chuck who nods. "The rest isn't too bad. I promise."

Dean nods and then begins to read again. He's pleased when Sam tells Lucifer he doesn't belong to anyone, least of all the devil, and then his heart rate increases as he reads Lucifer tensing.

"I thought you said it wasn't going to get worse?"

"Just read it, Dean," Chuck says.

Dean sighs and does as he is bidden. "Sam is taken off guard by the tense set of Lucifer's features. He looks worried. Sam wonders what the Devil could possibly have to worry about. Just then, Sam hears it. A muffled gagging sound and a woman's frantic pleas. It's the woman Sam pointed out before, the one Lucifer said was an alcoholic. She is kneeling beside her daughter, patting her fruitlessly on the back."

"What's happening?" Castiel asks,

Dean skims through the page. "There's a girl. She's choking." He continues to read and he sees that his brother is able to save the girl. He feels a surge of pride as he reads, which grows to concern again as he reads the Devil's reaction and explanation of what happened.

"There was a reaper?" Dean looks to Chuck for confirmation.

Chuck nods. "And Sam averted the death. I don't know how or why it happened, but it certainly surprised Lucifer."

"Would someone care to explain just what the hell is going on?" Bobby says angrily.

"There was a kid choking," Dean says. "The reaper was there, ready to do its job, but Sam got in the way. He saved the kid."

"How is that even possible?" Bobby asks.

"It's not," Castiel says, confusion knitting his brows together. "Once a reaper has been assigned a person's soul to collect, there is no going back."

"Well, apparently there is," Dean says. "'Cause Sam just did it."

Castiel shakes his head. "I tell you, it's not possible."

Dean shrugs and reads on. "Lucifer seems to be having the same reaction. He thinks Sam's 'remarkable'."

Castiel looks dissatisfied. "This is the problem with being banished from Heaven. I need guidance." He runs a hand through his hair in a rare show of frustration. "How am I to help if I don't understand what's happening."

"Whoa. Calm down, Cas," Dean says. "Whatever you're thinking, it can't be that bad."

Castiel looks at Dean, and Dean recognizes the expression. It's the 'I am an almighty being and you cannot possibly understand, mere mortal' expression that Uriel favored.

Bobby claps his hands together. "How about we all calm down and finish the pages? Then we can all get to work on researching reapers and see if there's some explanation for what Sam did or is going to do." He scratches his beard."It's all a bit hard to wrap your mind around."

"It's what Sam will do," Chuck says. "I see the day ahead for Dean and Sam. Though now they are separated, I am seeing more of Sam's path than Dean's. I suppose the powers that be think that's more significant at the moment."

"That's 'cause it is," Dean says doggedly.

"In that case, keep reading," Bobby says, and Dean returns his attention to the papers in front of him.

He reads with a bemused eye as Lucifer states that Sam is special, as if that is supposed to mean something. He is pleased to see that Sam shares his skepticism. When Sam goes to sleep, the pages end and Dean looks to Chuck for an explanation. "What happens next?"

Chuck looks uncomfortable. "I haven't written it out yet. How about we have some breakfast and then I can come back with a refreshed eye and..." He trails off under Dean's glare.

"What's happening, Chuck?" Dean asks in a determined voice.

Chuck mumbles and Dean leans in close to hear.

"What was that?"

Chuck sighs. "Demon blood."

The effect of those simple words has a marked reaction on Dean and Bobby. They both gasp while Castiel nods understandingly.

"I was expecting that," Castiel says.

"You were expecting it?" Dean asks in a poor imitation of Castiel's deep tones. "And you didn't think to warn us?"

Dean throws the papers away in his rage and his hands come up to fist in his hair. "What the hell, Cas?"

"It's not for Sam," Chuck says. "It's for Lucifer. Sam won't drink a single drop of it. A demon will bring it to Lucifer and Sam will see it. That's all."

Dean feels some relief at Chuck's words but not enough to assuage the anger building in him. He thought having Sam with Lucifer was bad enough, but this adds a whole new level to the images racing through his mind. Sam must be going through literal hell having the blood that close to him.

"Why does Lucifer need demon blood?" Bobby asks.

"It's for the vessel," Castiel says. "As we know, Nick is not Lucifer's true vessel. He is merely a substitute. To contain Lucifer the vessel must drink large amounts of demon blood to sustain it. Without it, Lucifer's presence would cause the vessel to spontaneously combust." Dean looks disgusted and Castiel nods. "Yes, it would be most unpleasant."

Bobby looks thoughtful. "So, this Nick, the vessel, he's Lucifer's weakness."

"If it comforts you to think so, then yes," Castiel says. "But there is no way to capitalize on that unless you can deny him the blood. That is, of course, impossible."

The small bubble of hope that lightened Dean's chest at Bobby's question disappears. For one gleaming second he had believed they actually had a weapon to use against Lucifer, but unless they could find and kill every demon in the world, they were out of luck.

"What else is going to happen?" Dean asks Chuck.

"They are going to talk a little more and then Sam has something of a revelation."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "A revelation?"

Chuck nods. "If you could help me set up the computer, I can write it out for you. I think that would be better than me trying to explain."

Two hours later, Chuck hits the print button and the pages come streaming out of the printer. Dean grabs at them and reads quickly. He is sad when he reads that Sam has no faith that Dean will be able to rescue him. He is damned well going to try.

Then he comes to the next section and his fists raises into the air triumphantly. "Go, Sammy! I knew you were more than a pretty face."

Chuck nods happily, knowing what Dean just read, but Castiel and Bobby are clueless.

"What's going on?" Bobby asks.

In response, Dean reads the section aloud. "Despite the fact he is a prisoner, he is in a position of power, he just didn't realize it before now. He is at Lucifer's right hand. Beneath the dragon's wing. If he can just maneuver himself into a position of trust, he could learn it all, all Lucifer's plans, his goals and more importantly, how he is going to achieve them. Then, if he ever gets away, he and Dean will be armed with all the information needed to defeat the Devil. Maybe even if he isn't able to get away. If he can just get a hold of a weapon, a real weapon, he can do the job himself."

Bobby beams. "That crafty son of a gun."

"It gets better," Dean says and continues to read. "Sam's path is laid out before him, though he's is loathe to accept it. Lucifer says that Sam is more than his vessel. Sam needs to find out what he means by that and how he can use it against him. His first task has to be letting go of the resentment he feels towards Lucifer for essentially kidnapping him. He's got to be his friend."

"I'll be damned," Bobby says. "You know, Sam just became our best weapon against Lucifer."

Dean nods enthusiastically and raises his coffee mug. "Here's to my brother, the mastermind."

xXx

The next morning, Chuck is already working at the computer when Dean comes into the study. Bobby is pouring coffee and Castiel is standing beside the desk, watching Chuck as he works.

"He woke me up with at the ass crack of dawn with his typing," Bobby says grouchily.

"What's the deal, Chuck?" Dean asks.

"I woke early," he says. "And I figured you'd want to know what was happening." Chuck presses one last key, and then the pages come streaming out of the printer.

"So it's a big day?" Bobby clarifies.

Chuck nods. "It's an interesting day."

Dean snatches up the first page from the printer tray and reads. "When Sam wakes the next morning, he's alone. He rolls over and stretches, looking around the empty room. There is a paper sack from Mindy's Diner on the table. He gets out of bed and crosses to the table. Beside the sack of food, there is a note. Sam, I will be otherwise occupied this morning. Please entertain yourself. I left you a pack of cards. L." Dean reads the last line twice and then looks up at Chuck. "I know you writer guys have artistic license and all, but the note's a bit much, Chuck."

Chuck raises his hands in front of him. "No license involved. That's what really happens. If you keep reading, you'll see Sam has the same reaction."

Dean skims down the page, until he comes to the section of Sam's attempted escape. "He is in motion before realizes what he is doing. He drags on his jeans and pulls a shirt on. Stuffing his feet into his unlaced boots, he crosses the room in three strides and pulls open the door. He steps outside into the parking lot, barely believing his luck. He expected to meet resistance, but there is no, except..." Dean curses loudly. "Meg." He says her name as an expletive.

Bobby's hands tighten into fists. "What's that demon bitch done now?"

In answer, Dean reads on. "'Going somewhere, Sam?' a familiar voice asks. Sam turns on his heel and is met with the smug face of Meg. Her eyes are the onyx black that betrays her true self. 'Just getting some air,' he says lightly, inwardly cursing." Dean scowls at the pages. "Sammy was all set to make his escape but demon bitch caught him."

Castiel frowns. "I do not understand. How is Sam to gain information to aid us in the fight if he escapes?"

"He doesn't," Dean says shortly. "Which means he's still being smart. He's at least trying to get away." Dean is relieved that Sam is thinking of escape even though it didn't work. He was worried Sam's martyr complex would have him staying with the Devil regardless.

Bobby nods approvingly. "Keep reading, Dean."

Dean reads on. He's amused at the way Sam handles Meg, and when Sam laughs, he laughs, too. His amusement cuts off abruptly as Meg threatens Bobby. He feels the same fear as Sam apparently feels.

"It's okay," Bobby says stoically. "If that bitch comes, I'll be ready for her."

Dean nods. "We'll be ready, Bobby. You're not fighting that one alone."

Bobby scowls. "I can handle one demon on my own, wheelchair be damned."

Dean smiles. "I know that. What I mean is that I don't want you having all the fun."

"Sam has faith in you, too," Chuck says. "He calls you wily."

Bobby snorts. "That's a new one on me."

Chuck clears his throat. "I hate to be a broken record but you really need to keep reading."

Dean worries when he reads of how Sam spends his morning. It sounds like Sam's captivity is getting to him, and that's the last thing Sam can afford. He needs to be strong. Dean is just as relieved as Sam when Lucifer returns, as it pulls his brother out of his funk.

As he reads on, he gets to a section that stops him. Sam has asked Lucifer for their protection, and Lucifer granted it.

"Get this," Dean says. "According to this, Lucifer made a deal with Sam. No demons can touch us, you included, Cas."

"No demon could touch me before," Castiel says looking amused. "But I am grateful to your brother nonetheless." He looks thoughtful. "This poses an interesting question. How many demons are affiliated with Lucifer now?"

"I'm guessing all of them," Dean says. "Lucifer is the big daddy demon guy, after all."

"And if that is the case, we can theoretically attack any demon we please and they are powerless to resist us," Castiel says with satisfaction.

A slow smile creeps over Dean's face as the sudden rush of power and understanding sweeps through him. "We could take out anyone we wanted. Hell, we could even go after Meg."

"That would be inadvisable," Castiel says. "She seems to be Lucifer's right hand at the moment. Going after her would be a difficult task. Almost as difficult as extracting Sam from Lucifer's grasp."

Dean doesn't need the reminder of how he is useless when it really counts. Sam is stuck there because Dean isn't strong enough to go in and save him.

"Keep reading," Bobby prompts, evidently noting Dean's depression.

Dean clears his throat. "Seeing that the Devil is in a giving mood, Sam makes his next request. 'Can I call Dean?' Lucifer frowns. 'I do not think that is a good idea. It will only make your separation harder to bear.' He seems genuine in his words. If Sam didn't know better, he would believe that the Devil is truly concerned for his welfare. But that was just impossible, wasn't it?"

"Dammit, Sammy!" Dean curses. "Of course it's impossible. He's the Devil!" He lays heavy emphasis on the word. "He's not interested in anyone but himself."

"I don't know," Chuck says softly. "I cannot feel Lucifer the way I can you and Sam, I just watch him interact with Sam, but I think he genuinely cares. He certainly acts like he does."

"That's the point, Chuck," Dean says. "He seems like he cares. If he really cared, he'd let Sam call me."

Dean wants that phone call. He wants it so bad it's like a craving. Seeing what's happening through Chuck is better than nothing, but it's not the same as being able to talk to his brother.

"I agree with Dean," Castiel says. "Lucifer is cunning. He can present any personality to Sam that he desires if it will help him achieve his ends."

"See?" Dean looks at Chuck. "He's the devil. He can't be trusted."

"If you believe that, you really won't like what's coming next."

Dean reads, feeling a surge of both pride and fear as Sam essentially faces off against the Devil, but he pauses and draws a breath when he comes to Lucifer's question. "Lucifer sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. 'Is that all you have in life, your brother? Who are you really, Sam, just Dean Winchester's brother?' Sam opens his mouth to argue, but the Devil's question brings him up short. He was more than just Dean's brother, he had to be." Dean rubs a hand over his face. "Of course you're more than that, Sam. It's him getting inside your head and screwing with you."

Chuck coughs. "Keep reading."

"'I didn't mean to upset you,' Lucifer says, seeing Sam's stricken expression. Sam waves away his words. He is busy thinking over what the Devil said. 'I'm a hunter,' he says eventually. 'I am a brother and a hunter.'"

Dean knows that his brother is so much more than that, and if he was there, he would pound it into him until he got the message.

He tosses the papers down on the desk. "What the hell, Chuck? Is this what Sam's really feeling or just what you think he's feeling?"

"I write what I see and feel," Chuck says. "I can't explain the process to you."

"Try!" Dean commands.

"He cannot," Castiel says. "There is a supreme connection between a prophet and subject. It would be like trying to explain your bond with your brother. There are some things that are beyond words."

Chuck shrugs and looks down at the floor. "There's more you need to read."

"Great," Dean says. "Just great. Like it couldn't get any better. What next, do they have a cuddle?"

Chuck looks up at Dean. "It's about one of the horsemen."

Castiel stiffens and Dean's brow furrows.

He reads through, skimming over the pages, searching for a mention of the horsemen.

"'So,' Sam says casually, 'what are your plans for Pestilence?' Lucifer looks at him darkly. 'Let's just say he is a piece in my game. A vital piece.' Sam nods as if Lucifer's answer has satisfied him, when really it hasn't. As little as he wants to hear it, he needs to know Lucifer's plans if he is to have any chance at averting them." Dean smiles. "That a boy, Sam," he says. "You're already helping more than you know."

Dean continues reading.

"He wishes Dean was there with him. Dean would know the right questions to ask and the right things to say to make the Devil open up to him. All he has is his half-baked plan to be the Devil's friend, and he is starting to wonder if that is just even an act anymore."

Dean shakes his head. "No, no, Chuck. I refuse to believe this shit. Sam's not softening to the devil. He's not. I know him. It's an act, nothing more."

"I wish I could tell you otherwise Dean, but I can't. There's something happening between, something big. I can feel it. I just don't know what it is yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that is reading, especially those that are reviewing. We can't believe how many of you are enjoying this story, and we hope that you continue to do so.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, Kazluvsbooks, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading.

Sam is lying on the bed, staring up at a water stain on the grimy ceiling, when Lucifer returns. He has been away all day, doing whatever it is he does in his mission to end the world, and Sam has been bored. He tells himself he hasn't missed the Devil's presence, that would be insane, but he's lying to himself. The truth is, Sam is starved for any company. He is used to spending his life in another person's—Dean's—space, and being alone for hours at a time is an adjustment.

Lucifer comes into the room and looks down at Sam. He follows Sam's gaze to the ceiling and his brows knit together in confusion.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Nothing," Sam says laconically. "There is nothing I can do, remember?"

"Don't be difficult, Sam. I come bearing news."

Sam sits up. "What's happened?" His mind races with possibilities. This is Lucifer, after all. It's unlikely to be good news.

Lucifer sits on the edge of Sam's bed and folds his hands in his lap. "I've noticed you have been, shall we say, depressed. I believe your surroundings are a part of that, so I have come to remedy it. We will be relocating."

"Where to?" Sam asks.

"One of my demons has found us a hotel outside the city. I'm told it has television in the rooms." He announces this with the air of a game show host bringing out the grand prize.

"It has television," Sam says blandly.

"Yes." Lucifer nods. "Now, gather your things. We need to be leaving."

Sam pushes himself from the bed lazily and sets about collecting his things and stuffing them into the duffel. When he's done, he looks expectantly at Lucifer.

Lucifer casts his eyes around the room once and nods. Sam feels the threadbare carpet under his feet for another second, and then he is blinking and looking around a completely different room.

The room is nice, far nicer than anything he and Dean have ever sprung for. It is lacking the musty scent of his usual motels, and as he looks up, he sees the ceiling is a clear white devoid of water stains.

"So much for checking in," he says, and then he tenses. "Lucifer, did you kill the owner so I could have a better room?"

Lucifer laughs. "No, Sam. I merely had him possessed. It's much easier this way. The only rooms that are in use are occupied by my demons. We don't have to worry about humans becoming curious."

Sam looks perplexed. "What do you care if humans get suspicious?"

Lucifer examines his fingernails. "I don't particularly. I just kill them if they start asking questions, but I thought it would assuage your own mortal conscience to know there will be a few less deaths on our account."

Sam doesn't think much of Lucifer having the hotelier possessed, but he figures possession is better than death.

"They even have room service here," Lucifer says. "So we will not need to go out to purchase diner food for you."

Sam is a little disappointed. He likes getting out into the town to eat. It makes him feel less like a hostage. He looks around the room; it's tastefully decorated and clean, and to anyone else would probably be an aspiration destination, but to him it's a gilded cage.

"Are you going to unpack?" Lucifer asks.

Lucifer is acting as if this is a shared vacation. In fact, he seems genuinely excited about the new room, and Sam feels like a killjoy for not getting enthused, too.

Trying to find something positive in the room to comment on—he doesn't understand why he's bothering—Sam glances around.

"There's Wi-Fi," he says, seeing a card on the coffee table. "That's handy."

Confusion creases the Devil's brow. "What's Wi-Fi?"

"It means I can get the internet here," Sam says. "If I was allowed near my laptop, of course."

Lucifer taps his chin. "Your laptop. Hmmm, if you could give me your word you will not use it to communicate with your brother or any of your other friends, you could have it."

Sam's head snaps up. "Really?"

Lucifer smiles indulgently. "Really."

If Sam has his laptop, he can keep up to date with the outside world. He can follow the news and therefore see where and perhaps what Lucifer is doing in those times he leaves Sam alone. It would help him to stay grounded, too, making him feel less isolated. "I won't use it to contact anyone," he vows. "I just want to keep up to date on the news."

Sam roots through his bag and pulls out his laptop. He sets it on the desk by the window and sits down. Going through the motions of booting it up and connecting to the internet is all familiar and reassuring. His first port of call is Google News. Lucifer stands behind him and watches as he taps at the keys. It's unnerving, but at least he's not stopping him.

The first news story he finds is an article of the rapid spread of the swine flu virus. He skims through the article, not seeing anything unusual until he comes to a list of states that have been most affected. Michigan is one of them.

"Pestilence," he says in a sigh.

Lucifer reads the page over his shoulder. "My, my, he has been a busy boy. I didn't know about half of these places."

"So, that's your plan," Sam says bitterly. "You're going to take us all out with swine flu."

Lucifer comes to sit on the edge of the desk, looking Sam in the eye.

"Would it please you if I said no?" he asks.

"Not if you were lying," Sam says.

"I have told you already, Sam, I will not lie to you. Swine flu is not my ultimate plan to end humanity; it's a part of that plan though."

Sam lowers his eyes. "Why do you have to end it at all?" he asks in a plaintive voice. "I get that you don't think much of humans, Lucifer, but can't you find a way to... I don't know, coexist?"

Lucifer seems genuinely stymied by the question. It's as if the thought has never crossed his mind. He is silent for a full minute. Sam has almost decided that he's not going to answer when he speaks. "I could learn to coexist, I suppose. But why would I want to? It's not as if humans have managed to find a way to coexist with each other, and you're all the same race. Look at the troubles in the Middle East. I take my example from the humans, Sam, and I take what I want."

Sam shakes his head and snaps the laptop closed. "I'm going to order some food."

xXx

Lucifer clicks open the door and steps in quietly. He doesn't want to risk waking Sam. It's late, and the room is cast into shadowy darkness, but he can see clearly. Sam is lying across the bed with his legs tangled in the blankets. Unlike the other nights Lucifer has watched Sam sleeping, this time he doesn't look peaceful.

Sam's brow has a sheen of sweat on it and his cheeks are flushed. Lucifer wonders if he is unwell. It's no matter if he is, he can heal him easily enough, but it warrants further study.

He steps closer to the bed, just as Sam cries out.

"Dean! No, Dean!"

As Lucifer watches, a tear slips from Sam's eye and trickles down onto the pillow.

Lucifer is puzzled. What could be causing Sam to cry? He doesn't like it. It upsets him, which in itself is a curious thing.

"Please, no," Sam murmurs.

Understanding dawns and with it comes a strange feeling of regret. Sam is having a nightmare. Lucifer remembers watching Nick struggle with his nightmares before he had allowed himself to be taken over. It hadn't distressed him then; in fact, it had amused him slightly, but now amusement is the furthest thought from his mind.

He steps forward hesitantly and reaches out a hand to shake Sam's shoulder, and then he falters. Sam possibly wouldn't like to be touched.

"Sam!" he said firmly. "Wake up. You are having a nightmare."

"Dean," Sam moans. "Oh, God, Dean."

Lucifer wonders at that. Sam is pleading with his father for mercy. Lucifer knows there is no mercy to be had there. He had expected mercy, too, but instead, he had been cast into the cage. He is surprised that Sam, knowing and seeing all he has, would still resort to prayer. It is something he would like to discuss with Sam if they ever reach a point where conversation is possible. It seems that no matter what Lucifer says and does at the moment, it displeases Sam in some way.

Sam makes a noise like a wounded animal. Lucifer recognizes the sound, as he heard it countless times in Hell. It's the sound of a soul in unbearable pain.

Regardless of Sam's possible wishes, he steps closer and shakes Sam's shoulder. "Wake up, Sam!"

Sam's eyes snap open and he jerks to a sitting position, throwing off Lucifer's hand in the process. Sam looks around the room as if expecting absent assailants to attack him.

"You're safe, Sam," Lucifer says, perching on the edge of the bed.

Sam's eyes fall on Lucifer and he exhales in a gust. "Nightmare," he says, speaking quietly as if to himself. "It was just a nightmare."

"What did you dream?" Lucifer asks. There is no malice behind the question. He is honestly curious about Sam's dream. He doesn't understand that Sam might not want to talk about it.

Sam looks down at the sheets covering his legs. "It doesn't matter."

"It clearly matters to you," Lucifer says. "You were very distressed."

Sam sighs and rakes a hand through his already tousled hair. "It was the night Dean died," he says in a small voice. "I was watching it all happen again."

Lucifer fumbles for something to say. "That must have been quite distressing for you."

"Understatement of the century," Sam says.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sam rubs at his eyes. "It's always the same," he says, not looking at Lucifer. It's as if he isn't even aware Lucifer is there. He's talking to himself. "I have to watch, pinned in place, as the hellhound tears Dean apart. Then it's gone, and I am left holding my brother's body. He's still, unnaturally still, but I swear I can still feel him there with me. I know he's gone, that he's dead, but my mind can't take it in. I'm scared... scared of what happens next."

"What does happen next?" Lucifer asks quietly.

Again, it's as if Sam is talking to himself as he answers. "Bobby comes. He makes me let go of Dean. He tells me we have to salt and burn him, but I can't. I can't watch my brother go up in flames like that. He's going to need his body when I get him back."

He takes a deep breath and Lucifer knows from the faraway look in his eyes that Sam is no longer in the room with him. He has been transported back in his memories.

"Bobby knew a place. Pontiac. There's a forest there. Harmonie State Park. He said if we have to bury him, that's the place. I was past caring about the little details. All that mattered was getting Dean somewhere safe so I could do what had to be done." He fists his hands in his lap. "I dug the grave. I didn't want Bobby's help. I had to do it myself." He trails off and looks at Lucifer. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

Lucifer considers for a moment before answering. "Perhaps because you need to tell someone. Have you ever discussed this with Dean?"

Sam huffs a laugh. "No, never. You don't tell someone what it was like to bury them."

"And what was it like?"

"It was physically painful to do," Sam says. "It was like I was dying every step of the way. All I could think about was getting him somewhere safe so I could get to work on bringing him back. When he was gone, I took Bobby back to his car. Then I drove away. The first place I came to was a liquor store. I brought all the booze I could afford and then started searching the maps for crossroads. I lost count of how many demons I spoke to. Nothing I said or did made any difference. I begged and pleaded and threatened, but they wouldn't help me. They wouldn't even exchange our places."

"Would you have really done that?" Lucifer asks, genuinely curious. "Gone to hell in your brother's place?"

Sam looks at him as if he's speaking in tongues. "Of course I would. He did it for me."

Lucifer sees the honesty in Sam's eyes and knows he's is telling him the truth. Sam would willingly have gone into Hell to save his brother. He wonders how it feels to be loved so completely. He had thought he was loved, by his brothers and his father, but he was wrong.

Sam clears his throat awkwardly, and Lucifer looks across at him. "Is there something you want to say, Sam?" he asks.

"What's it like there?"

"Hell?" Lucifer asks.

Sam nods. "Dean won't... can't talk about it."

Lucifer lays his palms on his knees. "It was different for me. Hell was my kingdom."

"But you were in a cage," Sam says.

"A cage from which I ruled," Lucifer says, casting his mind back to the days he had led from a throne inside a prison. "The very worst part of Hell for me was being alone. I had my demons, they came to seek audience and advice, but other than them, I was totally alone for millennia, starved for normal interaction. You, having always had the company of others, cannot possibly understand what that was like. It's one of the reasons I am so grateful to you for freeing me."

Sam shifts uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to. I thought I was doing the right thing."

Lucifer smiles. "I can understand how that must taunt you. You were manipulated by angels and demons alike. It really wasn't your fault."

Sam shakes his head, as if batting away an unpleasant thought. "I still did it."

Lucifer sees the torment in Sam's expression, and he wishes he had a way to comfort him. He doesn't like to see him suffering. He rallies for a way to bring some comfort to Sam. He thought the change of venue might have helped him but that fell flat.

An idea occurs to him, and he weighs the risk involved before speaking. It's true that even if Dean knew exactly where Sam was, he would be powerless to do anything to retrieve him. Sam is under constant guard. When Lucifer is away, there is a wealth of demons there to monitor him. Also, there is the threat of Dean being harmed for Sam to consider. He made the deal to stay in return for Dean's protection. Lucifer doesn't believe Sam would cast aside that protection so easily.

"Sam," he says softly. "Would you like to call your brother?"

It is worth the risk, Lucifer thinks, to see the light return to Sam's eyes. His whole face is transformed, and he looks elated.

"Seriously?"

Lucifer nods. "As long as you are careful not to alert him to our whereabouts."

He feels he still needs to say it, to set some limitations on it, for Sam's own benefit. If he thought Lucifer was softening...

Well, it was just good to have some limitations in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the great feedback we have been getting. We can't believe there are so many of you interested in this story. We love you all and really appreciate the love. Until next time, Snarks and Clowns


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, Kazluvsbooks, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading.
> 
> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

Dean is sitting on the couch in the rarely used lounge of Bobby's house. He has come in here for privacy; Bobby, Castiel and Chuck are in the study waiting for him to return. Dean is waiting for the phone call, the phone call Chuck has promised is coming. He doesn't know what will be said, as Chuck didn't write those pages. The ones he did write were enough.

He sips his whiskey and looks back over that day's pages. Sam had been moved to a new hotel. That surprised Dean. He didn't think Lucifer would care about his surroundings. He doesn't buy his excuse that he had moved them for Sam's own benefit—that is just more of his manipulation. Dean is pleased that Sam is in a nicer place, though. Even if it was, as Chuck had said in the pages, a gilded cage.

The fact Sam now has access to his laptop is good news. It will give him something to do to wile away the hours he's stuck there. He can keep up to date on the news and goings on in the world. It should help him.

The worst part of the pages is the recitation of Sam's nightmare. Dean has never asked, nor has he wanted to know, what happened after his death. He knew how it had felt for him to carry his brother's body away from that dirt road and back into the cabin. He knew how it felt to look down at Sam and know that it was just a shell, that the spirit that made it a person was gone. He'd never really considered the fact he and Sam had those experiences in common now. He wished they didn't.

It was harder to read the pages now, as he knew that now or very soon, Sam would be suffering through the nightmare miles away, and the only person there to give him comfort when he woke would be the Devil. Dean gave Lucifer begrudging credit for how he helped Sam, waking him up like that. It was what Dean would have done, but he wouldn't have then dragged all those hellish memories from his brother by making him recite what had happened, though it had seemed to help Sam.

He turns his phone over in his hand and wishes the screen would light up with an incoming call. Chuck hadn't been able to nail down a time for the call; all he knew was that it would be soon.

Dean sits in silence for another hour before the phone call comes. He is staring at the blank screen when it comes to life. He snatches it up and hammers the answer button in his haste to speak to his brother.

"Sammy?"

In response, there is a soft hitching sigh. "Dean." It's a greeting and a reassurance in itself. As if Sam didn't trust that Dean was okay until he heard his voice.

Dean rests his head back against the couch and closes his eyes. "Do I have to tell you how pissed I am about what you've gone and done? What were you thinking making that deal, Sam?"

"You know?" Sam sounds surprised.

"I know it all," Dean says. "Before I forget, Chuck says hi." He hopes that will be enough to tip Sam off to the fact Chuck is now with them and keeping them up to date on what's happening to him.

"Ah, yeah, good ole Chuck," Sam says with clear relief in his voice. "You taking care of him?"

"Doing my best," Dean says. "We're making do."

"It's good to hear your voice. How's the wound?"

"Healing," Dean says simply. "Bobby took care of it for me."

"That's good. Is he okay?"

"He's worried, like the rest of us are. How you doing, Sam, really?"

"I'm fine," Sam says. "It's not as bad as you'd think."

Dean knows Lucifer is present for this phone call, as Chuck told him he would be, so he understands Sam not telling him the truth about how it is, but he wishes he would. He knows from the pages that Sam is struggling, and this reassurance sounds more like acceptance of his situation. Dean doesn't want him accepting it. He wants him to fight back.

"Listen, Dean," Sam says. "I'm sorry for leaving you the way I did. I wish I could have taken time to explain it all."

"I know you had no choice," Dean says. "But I owe you a punch."

Sam laughs. Dean can tell it's a genuine laugh, perhaps the first in days, and it makes him feel a little better about the mess they have found themselves in. If Sam is able to laugh, he can't be all that bad off really, can he?

"I'll bear that in mind," Sam says when he has calmed again. "So, what have you been doing?"

"A lot of reading," Dean says honestly. "And not a lot else."

"You're not hunting?" Sam sounds genuinely shocked, and it catches Dean off guard.

"Well, there are no guidelines for when your brother has been kidnapped by the Devil," he says testily.

There is rustling in the background, and Dean can imagine Sam running his hands through his hair in frustration. "You can't do this, Dean," he says. "I'm out of the game, but you aren't. You've gotta keep fighting."

Dean huffs. "And leave you there alone?"

"You and I both know I'm here for the duration. There's nothing you can do about that, but you can make a difference to other people. You're a hunter, Dean, the best there is; don't let more people suffer because of me."

Dean wants to tell his brother that it's not like that, that he's doing his damned best already, but he can't lie. Sam's right. He's out of the game, but that doesn't mean Dean is. There's still an apocalypse happening, and he needs to be working against it. He thinks of what Castiel said about their free pass from demons. He should be taking advantage of that and taking out as many black-eyed sons of bitches as he can instead of sitting around waiting on each page from Chuck, as if that's helping anyone but him.

"Okay," he says heavily. "I'll get back to it, but you've got to promise me something in return."

"Anything," Sam says without hesitation. "You know that."

"You stay strong, Sammy. I know things are tough right now, and it's got to be confusing, but you have to remember who and what you are with. Don't let your guard down."

"I promise. And you stay strong, too."

"You know it," Dean says with bravado. He hears another voice in the background of the call, and his hands tighten around the phone. That's Lucifer's voice he can hear. Lucifer talking to his brother, his Sam, as if he has any right to. It's so beyond messed up it's all Dean can do to keep his head and not shout curses at him.

"Um, I've got to go," Sam says.

Dean pushes down his anger to answer his brother in a steady voice. "Okay, Sammy. I'll talk to you soon."

"Yeah, maybe. Bye, Dean."

Dean is about to respond, but he realizes Sam has already gone. He sets the phone down on his lap and rubs his hands over his eyes. His every muscle is tensed, and he feels an overwhelming urge to punch something or someone. Emotion threatens to overwhelm him, and he has to remind himself that no matter what Sam says, it's only a matter of time before he gets him back. He has to. He's the big brother. It's his job.

He hears movement at the door, and he turns to see Bobby on the threshold.

"You okay?" he asks.

Dean shrugs.

"Yeah," Bobby nods understandingly. "Yeah, I know how you feel. Come back in here and I'll fetch you a drink."

Dean picks up his glass and follows Bobby back into the study. Castiel is standing by the window, watching Dean carefully. Bobby takes his empty glass and refills it for him.

"How did he sound?" Bobby asks.

Dean pauses for a moment, thinking of the hitching sigh at the beginning of the call and the steely determination in Sam's voice when he told Dean to get back to hunting.

"He sounds like Sam," he says. "He's doing about as well as we've read."

"You're troubled," Castiel states.

"Yeah, Cas. It's hard not to be when your brother is trapped with the Devil."

Castiel gives him a searching look. "It's more than that, though. Something is troubling you."

Dean sighs. "He's doing good, which is great, but he's doing a little too good if you know what I mean."

Castiel merely looks blankly back at him.

"He's trapped with the Devil," Dean says again. "Shouldn't there be a little more fear from him? Even in the pages, he doesn't seem all that scared."

"He's obviously braver than we give him credit for," Castiel says.

"I don't know if it's bravery, Cas. That's the problem. He seems a little too comfortable with everything."

Bobby knocks back his whiskey and sets the glass down hard on the table. "I think you're seeing troubles where there are none. God knows things are bad enough already. Let's not go looking for more."

Dean nods as if he's accepting of Bobby's words, but inside he is still troubled. Something is wrong. He can feel it.

xXx

Dean can't sleep that night. His thoughts are too full of Sam. He finally gives up trying at around five-am, and he makes his way downstairs. He's surprised to find Bobby is already awake and seated at the desk.

"You couldn't sleep either?"

Bobby shakes his head. "I gave up trying an hour ago. Now, I'm elbow deep in demon lore. I figure we should read up as much as we can before we put our free passes to work.

"Good thinking," Dean says. "I was thinking of searching up a case on Chuck's computer."

Bobby raises an eyebrow. "Is this because of what Sam said yesterday?" Seeing Dean's confusion, he continues. "Chuck gave us the cliff notes version."

Dean rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. I told Sammy I'd keep going, and that's what I have to do. Even..."

"Even if it's the last thing you feel like doing," Bobby finishes for him. "I get that, but Sam has a point. Just because he's out of the game, doesn't mean we all are."

Dean goes over to the kitchen table and turns on Chuck's computer. It takes a moment to load, and when it does, Dean is frustrated that none of his usual webpages are favorited as they are on Sam's laptop. He has to go through Google to find the news pages.

By the time he finds something remotely newsworthy, Chuck is awake and waiting at his elbow for his turn on the computer.

"I thought you'd want to know what's happening with Sam," he says testily when Dean tells him to back off.

"I do," Dean says. "But I think I've found something here." He prints the police report he's been looking at and vacates the chair for Chuck to get to work at the computer.

Bobby takes the sheet of paper from him and reads aloud. "Amber Freer, age 16. Killed by wild animal. Blah, blah, blah. Clawed her head open?" Bobby looks up. "That's something new."

Dean nods. "Could just be a wild animal, but the local weather is lit up with demon signs. I'm thinking we've got some demons to test our new free passes out with."

Bobby claps his hands on the wheels of his chair. "Guess this one's all on you and Cas. I'm not made for demon chasing at the moment."

Dean nods. He knew Bobby was out of this particular fight, but he is pleased that he doesn't have to be the one to point it out. "You can keep an eye on Chuck for us."

Bobby laughs. "Yeah, between me and the archangel Raphael, Chuck will be all taken care of."

"I'm going to go shower," Dean says. "If Cas arrives, keep him here. I don't fancy taking one of the junkers to Nebraska, and Baby is still in Ohio."

When Dean gets back downstairs, fresh from the shower, Castiel is waiting for him. "I understand we are going to Nebraska," he says by way of a greeting.

"Yep. You think you can angel mojo us there?"

Castiel nods. "Of course. Would you like to wait for the pages first?"

Dean is torn. He wants to wait to read what Sam is going to be doing that day, but he also has a promise to keep.

"Chuck," he calls. "Anything important I need to know?"

Chuck looks up from the computer. "Nothing really."

Dean nods. "Okay, then. We'll be back as soon as we can. Call us if anything important happens."

"You know it," Bobby says. "And you take care out there. We don't know how many demons are affiliated with Lucifer yet. Don't get cocky."

"Don't worry, Bobby," Castiel says solemnly. "I will take good care of him."

xXx

Castiel's eyes bore into Dean's. "He is the antichrist, Dean. We have no choice but to kill him."

Dean pushes away from the wall and glares at Castiel. "He's just a child, Cas. We can't kill a child."

"He is not a child. He is the greatest weapon in Lucifer's arsenal."

"He doesn't know that! He thinks he's just a normal kid."

"What he believes doesn't matter; it's in his very blood."

"Like Sam," Dean states coldly. "It was in his blood, too, right?"

Castiel looks at the floor. "It is not the same thing. This child is not your brother."

"No. My brother is currently trapped with Lucifer because he overcame what was in his blood and made a sacrifice to save me. He did that, who's to say this kid can't do the same?" Dean sighs and rakes a hand over his face. "We can't just kill him, Cas. We have to give him a chance. We can take him back to Bobby's. We can keep an eye on him there."

Castiel sighs. "Raphael won't like it."

"Raphael can blow me," Dean says shortly.

Castiel's lips quirk into a smile. "Very well. I shall attempt to do it your way, but I warn you now, Raphael will not take kindly to this. If he decides to smite the child, there is nothing you nor I can do about it without dying ourselves."

Dean considers for a moment. Raphael is a pain in the ass, but the added protection he brings to Bobby's house is useful, and they can't send Chuck away. Or can they? If it means keeping Jesse safe, they could let Chuck go back to his house. He could send in the pages via email for them to read. It wouldn't be the worst thing.

"If Jesse agrees to come with us, we will send Chuck home."

Castiel nods. "That would make things much easier for all concerned."

Castiel takes them back to Jesse's house, and Dean knocks on the door. Jesse opens it and looks thoughtful as he sees Dean and Castiel.

"Hey, Jesse," Dean says. "Mind if we come in?"

Jesse steps back, and Dean and Castiel enter. The boy leads them to the living room, where they take a seat. Jesse stays standing, looking at them curiously.

"What are you doing here?"

"We came to talk to you," Dean says. "About something important."

Jesses tilts his head to the side. "Like what?"

"You're special, Jesse. You know that, right?"

Jesse looks at Dean, and Dean knows he understands what he is talking about. Jesse has some awareness of his powers.

"It's like this," Dean says. "You're like Superman—minus the cape and the go-go boots. See, my partner and I, we work for a secret government agency. It's our job to find kids with special powers. In fact, we're here to take you to a hidden base in South Dakota, where you'll be trained to fight evil.

"Like the X-Men?"

"Exactly like the X-Men." Dean chuckles. "In fact, the, uh, guy we're taking you to—he's even in a wheelchair. You'll be a hero. You'll save lives. You'll get the girl. Sounds like fun, right?"

Suddenly, the door is flung open and Julia Wright strides in. Her eyes are the onyx black that denotes demonic possession.

"He's lying to you," she says.

She raises an arm, as if about to sweep Dean against the wall, but she pauses when Dean grins at her. "Something funny?" she asks.

"Depends on where your allegiance lies, I guess," Dean says.

"What do you mean?"

Dean looks exceptionally smug. "My name is Dean Winchester. You heard of me?"

She shrieks and her hands claw.

Dean laughs. "I'll take that as a yes."

"What's going on?" Jesse asks.

The demon looks away from Dean and Castiel as if they are beneath her notice.

She looks at Jesse, her head tilting to the side. "Jesse. You're beautiful. You have your father's eyes."

Jesse's brow furrows. "Who are you?"

"I'm your mother," the demon says.

Jesse shakes his head. "No, you're not."

"Mm-hm. You're half human... half one of us."

"She means demons, Jesse," Dean says, but the demon speaks over him.

"Those people you call your parents—they lied to you, too. You're not theirs—not really."

"My mom and dad love me," Jesse says in a small voice.

"Do they? Is that why they leave you alone all day? Because they love you so much? These people—these imposters—they told you that the tooth fairy was real and that your toys could hurt you and a hundred other things that aren't true. They love you so much, they made your whole life a lie. Look into your heart, Jesse. You've always known you weren't theirs. You've always known you were different. Everyone has lied to you. They're not FBI agents. And you're not a superhero."

"Then what am I?"

"You're powerful. You can have anything you want. You can do anything you want."

"Don't listen to her, Jesse!" Dean says, sliding the demon knife down the sleeve of his jacket and into his hand.

"They treated you like a child. Nobody trusted you. Everybody's lied to you. Doesn't that make you angry?"

Jesse begins to tremble, and he clenches his hands into fists. The room begins to rattle and the demon looks up at the ceiling as the lights begin to flicker.

"See? It does make you angry. But I'm telling you the truth, Jesse."

Dean looks around him as the pictures on the wall begin to shake off and the lamp shatters. He knows they are going to have to do something soon. He grips the knife tightly.

"Wouldn't it be better if there were no lies? Come with me and you can wash it all clean. Start over. Imagine that—a world without lies."

Castiel looks at Jesse. "She's right. We have lied to you."

The demon's gaze snaps to Castiel.

Dean looks hesitantly between the demon and Jesse. "But we'll tell you the truth," Dean says, stepping forward.

The demon raises a fist and suddenly Dean can't speak. There is a pressure building around his throat, like something is trying to squeeze it. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Papa's gonna be mad."

Castiel moves forward just as Jesse shouts. "Stop it!"

Jesse looks at Dean and then back at the demon. "I want to hear what he has to say."

"You're stronger than I thought," the demon says.

Dean stands up and rubs at his throat. "We lied to you. And I'm sorry. So here's the truth. I'm Dean Winchester. That's my friend, Castiel. We hunt monsters."

"Except when your brother is the monster. Right, Dean?"

Dean looks at Jesse and nods to the demon. "And that woman right there, her name is Julia. She's your mother. But the thing inside of her, the thing that you're talking to—it's a demon."

Jesse looks confused. "A demon?"

The demon glares at Dean. "He's done nothing but lie to you since the moment you met him. Don't listen to him. Punish him."

Jesse small hands fist at his sides. "Sit down and shut up."

A chair scoots up behind the demon, who is forced into it, silent. She struggles to speak, but Jesse just shakes his head and looks to Dean.

"There's, uh, kind of a... a war between angels and demons, and... you're a part of it."

"I'm just a kid."

Castiel looks at the boy, his face serious. "You can go with her if you want. We cannot stop you. No one can. But if you do, millions of people will die."

Jesse looks thoughtful. "She said I was half demon. Is that true?"

"Yes," Dean says. "But you're half human, too. You can do the right thing. You've got choices, Jesse. But if you make the wrong ones, it'll haunt you for the rest of your life."

Jesse looks between Dean and the demon. Castiel steps forward. "We can give you your mother back."

"You can?" Jesse asks.

Castiel nods. Castiel and Dean exchange glances, and then Castiel walks up to the demon. He places his hand on her forehead as she bucks in the chair trying to escape. Castiel closes his eyes, and a moment later, she slumps back in the chair.

"Is she gonna be all right?" Jesse asks,

Dean looks across at Julia. She looks like she is sleeping. "Eventually."

"What now?"

Dean looks at Castiel, but the angel is no help. He's still wary of the child. "Now we take you someplace safe, get you trained up," he says. "You'd be handy in a fight, kid."

"What if I don't want to fight?"

Dean feels a pang of sadness for the child. He has no choice now. Whichever side he chooses will eventually mean he has to fight.

"Jesse, you're powerful. More powerful than... pretty much anything we've ever seen. That makes you—"

"A freak," Jesse says, sounding near tears.

"To some people, maybe. But not to us." He gestures between himself and Castiel. "See, we're kind of freaks ourselves."

"I can't stay here, can I?" Jesse asks hopefully.

"No. The demons know where you are, and more will be coming."

"I won't go without my mom and dad."

"There's nothing more important than family. We get that. And if you really want to take them with you, we'll back your play. But you got to understand—it's gonna be dangerous for them, too."

Jesse blinks, looking at Dean. "What do you mean?"

"Our dad... he would take us with him wherever he went," Dean explained.

"Where is he now?"

"Dead. A demon killed him." Dean pauses. "Look, Jesse... once you're in this fight, you're in it till the end, win or lose."

"What should I do?" Jesse asks.

Dean looks at him sympathetically. "We can't tell you. It's your choice. It's not fair. I know."

"Can I go see my parents? I... I need to... say goodbye."

"Sure."

Dean watches the child walk from the room, his shoulders slumped. He feels like a dick for putting the kid through this, but there is no other option. If he stays here, the demons will swarm the place, probably killing his family for kicks. He has to leave them behind for their safety.

Suddenly, Castiel stiffens and makes for the door.

"Cas?" Dean says. "What is it?"

Castiel doesn't answer. Dean follows him up the stairs and into the kid's bedroom. It's empty. On the bed there is a note.

"What's it say?" Dean asks as Castiel reaches for it.

"That he had to leave to keep his parents safe, that he loves them, and he's sorry."

"How do we find him?" Dean asks.

"With the boy's powers, we can't. Not unless he wants to be found."

Dean curses under his breath. He's failed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We want to give a big hug to all of you who have commented. It means the world to us. Thank you, thank you, thank you. We hope you liked it. Leave us some feedback and let us know what you think.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading.  
> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

The new, nicer hotel room had its benefits. One of which was the endless hot water in the shower. Sam stands under the hot spray of water for a long time, feeling it pounding down over his shoulders and relaxing his tense muscles. The shower is the one place he has privacy. Even Lucifer doesn't disturb him here.

He finishes washing and steps out of the shower. He grabs a towel and quickly dries himself off, tying it around his waist when he's done. He steps out of the steamy bathroom and into the cool air of the room. He looks around and is somehow unsurprised to see Lucifer there, watching him.

"I thought you were out," Sam says.

Lucifer shrugs. "I took care of what I had to. It seems you have as well."

Sam looks down at himself and realizes his state of undress. He blushes and hurries over to the bed where his clothes are waiting. He grabs the pile of clothing and holds it up, covering his chest. "Haven't you ever heard of personal space?"

"Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?" Lucifer raises a brow.

Sam swallows. "Yes, actually, you are."

"I shall give you some … personal space then. Call when you're ready." And then Lucifer disappears.

Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He tosses the clothing back on the bed and quickly changes.

Once he's dressed, he walks over to the center of the room and clears his throat. He looks up at the ceiling and speaks. "Um, I'm ready now."

There is a fluttering sound and then Lucifer is there. He looks pleased that Sam has called him, as if he thought that Sam might not.

"So, Sam, do you have plans for the day?"

Sam shrugs. "Not really. There's not really a lot to do."

"In that case, would you like to accompany me to the local diner for some breakfast?"

Sam's stomach chooses that moment to growl. Lucifer looks at him with a smile.

"I take that as a yes."

Lucifer steps over to touch Sam's hand, presumably to transport them there, but Sam steps back. "Can we walk? I mean it's great and all to zap there, but I miss the outdoors."

Lucifer frowns. "You aren't a captive, Sam. You are allowed outside."

"You really trust me?"

Lucifer nods, his expression serious. "Of course. All you had to do was ask. I want you to be comfortable, to be happy. Whatever you need Sam, you only have to ask."

Sam nods. "Okay, let's go then."

It's not as strange as it should be to walk down the street beside the Devil. It almost feels normal.

When they reach the diner, Lucifer steps forward and opens the door for Sam. He gestures him in ahead of himself. Sam gives him a strange look but steps forward around the Devil.

They take a seat in the corner at a booth, and a moment later, a gum popping waitress comes up to them. She hands them each a menu.

"Can I get you two something to drink?"

Sam looks up from his menu. "Coffee, please."

The waitress looks to Lucifer. "And you, hon?"

Lucifer waves his hand. "I don't require anything."

The waitress gives him a strange look and then nods. "Sure thing." She then looks to Sam. "I'll have your coffee right out to you."

Sam looks over his menu. He decides on Dean's favorite, maybe because he misses him. Sam looks over his menu at Lucifer. "Are you going to eat?"

Lucifer raises his brows and a small smile quirks his lips, as if he thinks the idea is humorous. "I don't need to eat to sustain this body."

"Sustenance isn't the only reason people eat. People eat because they're happy or sad, or when they're celebrating. It's a social thing, not just a food thing."

Lucifer considers Sam's words. "Would it please you if I ate?"

Sam looks at him and then shrugs. "I'm not going to force you or anything; I'm just saying it would be nice. If you don't want to, you don't have to."

"I will eat," Lucifer says after a moment, maybe more to himself than to Sam. "What would you recommend, as I have no previous experience with such things?"

"Why don't you have what I'm having, pancakes?"

Lucifer nods. "Pancakes. Okay."

The waitress returns with Sam's coffee. "So do you two know what you'd like?"

"We'd like two short stacks, please," Sam says.

The waitress scratches it down on her pad and then looks back up. "Anything else?"

"No, we're all set."

"Okay, then," the waitress says, taking back the menus. "It'll be right out."

Sam swallows and looks around. Lucifer's hawk-like gaze is fixed on him, and it's making it hard to think.

"What's wrong?" Lucifer asks.

Sam looks over at him and shrugs. "Nothing. I guess I'm just confused."

"About?"

"Why you care so much."

Lucifer draws a breath. "Because you're important to me."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

Sam sighs. "I just wish something would make sense. Everything has been so confusing lately. I don't know. It's just a lot, I guess. I miss Dean. I miss Bobby. I miss my life."

Lucifer looks hurt. "I understand."

The waitress returns with their food and sets the plates down in front of them with a smile and promise to return to refresh Sam's coffee.

Lucifer looks at the food with contempt, but picks up his fork and pokes at his pancakes nonetheless. He leans down and sniffs the plate.

"They're just pancakes, Lucifer. They're not going to kill you."

Lucifer looks up at Sam and rolls his eyes. "There is little that can."

"Just eat, Lucifer. They're good."

Lucifer watches Sam for a moment and then brings his fork down to the stack of pancakes in front of him. Slowly, he brings a forkful of pancake up to his mouth, and with one last look down at it, he brings it to his lips.

Sam has to repress a laugh as he watches the Devil. He's making the process of eating seem painful.

"Not bad, right?" Sam asks, stabbing another piece of pancake.

Lucifer continues to chew his first bite and then swallows with a grimace. "It's tolerable."

Sam laughs. "Thanks for trying, but if it's not your thing, don't worry about. I appreciate the effort."

Lucifer smiles and takes another bite. "As a social activity, I assume we should talk."

Sam looks at him, eyes wide. "Yeah, um... What do you want to talk about? And please can we skip the subject of you raising horsemen, as I don't want to lose the little appetite that I have."

Lucifer nods. "Understandable. Tell me about your life then."

"You already know it all."

Lucifer tilts his head to the side. "But I don't. I don't really know you at all. I would like to, though."

Sam sits in silence for a moment. Lucifer genuinely seems to want to know more about him, and not just in an I-want-to-wear-you-to-the-prom kind of way. He wonders what to talk about, and if he even wants to.

"You don't have to," Lucifer says, sounding disappointed.

Sam shakes his head. "It's not that. I'm just having a little trouble working out what you want to know and why."

"Because you interest me, Sam. Every facet of your being is a puzzle to me."

Sam huffs a laugh. "I'm a puzzle. That makes me feel good."

Lucifer frowns. "I think I am misunderstood. All I mean is that you intrigue me, Sam. I want to know everything about you."

"Fine," Sam says. "I'll tell you something, but you have to tell me something in return."

"Whatever you want to know," Lucifer says earnestly.

"What was it like...?" Sam asks. "Falling?"

Lucifer stiffens. "You are asking me how it felt to be cast out of heaven?"

Sam nods. Part of him wants to retract the question, to remove the look of anguish from Lucifer's face. But another, more dominant part of him wants to know the answer.

"Painful," Lucifer says softly. "Not physically, but emotionally. I did not just fall as your friend Castiel did, I was cast out. My brother, my beloved family, sent me away and left me to rot. I was so angry." His hands fist on the tabletop. "Furious that they had all chosen your kind over me. Imagine your brother choosing an ant over you, and you can come close to understanding my confusion."

Sam shudders at the thought. He has made the wrong choice in the past, but Dean never has. He always put Sam first, even before his own life. He can't imagine how it must have felt for Lucifer.

He finds himself wanting to comfort Lucifer, though he doesn't know what to say. He examines the feeling, trying to make sense of it. This is the Devil, his captor, he shouldn't want to comfort him, it makes no sense, but the urge remains.

"I can't imagine what that must have been like for you," he says.

"You're right, you can't," Lucifer says simply. "I am glad you cannot. Feeling that betrayal would surely break you. It changed me. I was a different being before my fall. I know that's hard for you to imagine, seeing me as you do, but I was not always as I am."

Sam considers his words carefully. He has seen a different side to the Devil already. Before he left Dean in that warehouse and prayed to Lucifer, he had believed the Devil was hard and cruel, with no care for anyone but himself. Since his captivity, he has seen a different side to the angel. He seems genuine in his care for Sam, and Sam believes it is more than his appointment as his vessel. If possible, Lucifer cares for Sam as a person.

"So," Lucifer says, breaking into his thoughts. "I have shared something about myself. Tell me something about you."

Sam considers carefully. "What would you like to know?"

"What is your first memory?"

Sam smiles in spite of himself. That's an easy one to answer. "Dean," he says. "I don't know how old I was, or even where we were, but I remember there was a play park, and I fell down. Kinda like that kid in the park the other day. I remember I bit my lip, and the blood scared the crap out of me. I was crying, and then Dean was there. He used his shirt to wipe the blood of my chin."

"Where was your father?" Lucifer asks.

Sam shrugs. "Dunno. Not there. He could have been out of a hunt or out getting loaded. It was usually one of the two when we were growing up."

Lucifer frowns. "You smile as you tell the story, but it doesn't seem like a happy story to me. You were injured and your father was absent."

Sam looks pensive. "I guess it's all about perspective. For Dean, that's probably a sad memory, I got hurt on his watch, but for me it's a good memory because Dean was there. He took care of me like he always does."

"I used to have a brother like Dean," Lucifer says thoughtfully, and then his expression darkens. "His name was Michael. I never doubted Michael would be there for me, but he cast me into the cage."

A question occurs to Sam, and he pauses.

"Whatever you want to know, just ask," Lucifer says. "It is your turn after all."

"If you could go back and change it all, would you?"

Lucifer is silent for so long Sam is sure he isn't going to answer.

Lucifer looks down at the tabletop, considering carefully. Eventually, he raises his head and looks Sam in the eye. "No. I would do it all again. The path my choices put me upon was a hard one, but I do not regret a step of the journey. It led me to this day and this place."

"A diner in Detroit?" Sam asks with a quirked brow.

"No, Sam. Not the diner," Lucifer says. He pushes away his plate and looks to Sam. "Are you finished?"

Sam nods. "Yeah, I've had enough for now." He gestures to the waitress for the bill and pays with one of the last folded notes in his wallet. "I'm running low," he says. "Unless you have a stash of cash, I'm going to need to hit a bar soon."

Lucifer looks puzzled. "You need to hit a bar?"

"Poker and pool, Lucifer. It's how we get our cash."

"There will be no need for that. My demons acquire money for their needs. I shall merely extract some from them."

Sam nods, but he feels a little disappointed. He would have liked to catch a game. It would have been a nice slice of normality in a week filled with the strange and confusing.

They make their way back to the hotel and up to Sam's room. Lucifer pauses at the door as Sam goes inside and throws himself down on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Sam asks, looking across at Lucifer who is still hovering at the door.

"I didn't know if you would want company," he says.

Sam considers. He doesn't particularly want Lucifer analyzing him as he watches TV, but at the same time, he doesn't have the heart to send him away. He looks oddly destitute standing in the doorway.

"Well, I'm only watching TV, but if you don't have anything better to do, I guess you can join me."

Lucifer nods hesitantly and steps into the room, perching on the end of the bed.

Sam scroll through the movies available on demand, and a laugh bubbles out of him.

"What is it?" Lucifer asks.

"I was just thinking. This hotel has an impressive selection of porn on demand. Dean would be in heaven."

Lucifer raises his brows. "Your brother is an interesting character."

Sam chuckles. "Yeah, he is." He pauses and looks sad. "I miss him."

"That's understandable. I miss my family as well."

Sam looks over at Lucifer and sees the pain in his expression.

"But you wouldn't change anything," Sam says.

Lucifer frowns. "I don't expect you to understand me, Sam."

"That's good, because I don't."

Lucifer nods, but he looks dissatisfied, as if Sam is missing something important.

xXx

Lucifer watches Sam as he flips through the channels, finally coming to rest on a news programme. It's a local show, and they are discussing the tragic death of a small family in a car accident.

Lucifer barely pays it any attention; he is more interested in watching Sam as he reacts to the news. His facial expressions go from mildly interested, to confused and then horrorstruck. He is perplexed by the last until he hears Sam's moan.

"No! Why?"

Lucifer's attention flicks to the screen and he feels understanding dawn. The picture displayed is a small family, a mother and her three children. The names are listed. Sonia, James, Gareth and... Sarah. The child Sam had saved.

Sam is staring at the television screen, open-mouthed. Seemingly without thought, Sam presses the volume button on the remote until the newsreader's voice echoes throughout the room.

"There has been no confirmation of the circumstances around the accident, but we have been told that all passengers died on impact."

Lucifer reaches across for the remote and he turns the television off. Sam stares at the blank screen as if he is unable to tear his eyes away.

"Sam?" Lucifer says hesitantly.

Sam turns to look at him, and Lucifer is shocked to see wetness in Sam's eyes.

"But I saved her," he says plaintively.

Lucifer's hand twitches, as if he is about to reach out to Sam, but he keeps in firmly placed in his lap. "I believe that may be why."

"I don't understand."

"You averted the child's path. She was destined to die, but you were there, and you intervened. For whatever reason, her path was adjusted, which led her to be in the car at that time on that day."

Sam bows his head and rakes his hands through his hair. "Why did the whole family die though?"

Lucifer sighs heavily. "I can only imagine the child herself was somehow at fault for the accident."

"But she was just a kid." Sam pushes himself to his feet and begins to pace the length of the room.

Lucifer watches him pace, feeling at a loss. "I don't have all the answers, Sam. I wish I did. I can perhaps find out for you."

Sam pauses in his pacing. "No. Call me a coward, but I don't want to know."

"That does not make you a coward," Lucifer says then thinks for a moment before speaking again. "Would it comfort you to know that she is in a better place? They all are."

"No, it doesn't comfort me," Sam snaps. "It makes me feel like an even bigger asshole for causing the death of two more innocent children. If I had just left it that day, if I hadn't got in the way of the reaper..." He fists his hands at his sides.

"You are not the first to interfere with my father's master plan, Sam," Lucifer says. "Or even the first of your family. Your brother did that the day he made a deal for your resurrection."

"No offence, Lucifer," Sam says. "But your father is a dick."

Lucifer laughs. "No offence taken. I have myself fought against his will for many millennia now." He raises an eyebrow. "We truly are destined."

And that, Lucifer thinks, is precisely the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We can't thank you guys enough for reading. We are glad there are people out there willing to give this story a shot. Thanks again, Snarks and Clowns


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading.
> 
> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

When Sam wakes the next morning, Lucifer is sitting at the desk. Sam starts as he catches sight of him.

"Good morning," Lucifer says.

Sam nods. "Is there a reason you are watching me sleep?"

"Is this another of those personal space things?"

Sam chuckles. "Definitely. And I ask again, why are you watching me sleep?"

Lucifer looks apologetic. "I wanted to speak to you."

Sam pushes his hair out of his face and looks to the fallen angel to speak.

"I have to go away for a while," Lucifer says. "There are... things that I must attend to."

Things like raising horsemen and ending the world, Sam thinks.

It's not just the news that Lucifer is going to wreak havoc that bothers him, though he tells himself it is, the truth is that he doesn't want Lucifer to go and leave him alone with only his demons for company.

"You are unhappy," Lucifer says, looking oddly pleased about that fact. "Why?"

"How long are you going for?" Sam asks in response.

"I don't know. Perhaps a week. Now, tell me why you are unhappy."

Sam sighs. "Because I am going to be stuck here with your demons."

Lucifer looks disappointed. "I am sorry for it. If it would make you more comfortable, I can instruct them to keep their distance. You need only speak with them when you want to."

"That's easy enough. I will never want to talk to them," Sam says bitterly.

"You have my word that they will leave you in peace. Now, I must be leaving. Is there anything you need before I go?"

"Money," Sam says. "Unless you're telling me I can go hustle pool to get some."

"I don't think that's wise. You could become embroiled in trouble. I know how fickle humans can be over money." Lucifer reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a roll of bills. "Will this be enough?"

It's enough cash to last Sam and Dean for weeks without fake credit cards. It will definitely be enough to tide him over for a week on diner food.

"It's plenty," Sam says. "Thanks, Lucifer."

Lucifer smiles. "I should leave now." He looks reluctant though.

"You probably should," Sam says. "I need to shower."

Lucifer nods. "If you need me, pray."

Sam thinks it's odd that a fallen angel is asking him to pray, but he doesn't comment.

One moment Lucifer is looking at Sam with an unnamable expression, the next he is gone and Sam is alone in the room.

Sam flops back against the pillows and relishes the solitude for a moment. He has a whole week of his own company ahead of him. He never thought he would feel so relieved to have time alone. He wishes Dean was there to enjoy the time, and then he sees the contradiction. He needs to learn to be alone properly, as he has a feeling that as Lucifer's plans draw to a close he is going to grow used to his own company.

He pushes back the blankets and heads to the shower, thinking that he will get his routine over with and then head out to the diner for breakfast.

He makes quick work of showering and changing, and soon he is walking down the stairs and out of the hotel. He doesn't see anyone following him, but he feels them. He supposes it was too much for the demons to allow him to wander freely about the town.

When he gets to the diner and sinks down into his booth, he is greeted by the same gum-popping waitress as the day before.

"Where's your friend?" she asks. Sam looks blankly at her for a moment and she elucidates. "The guy in the green shirt.

Sam smiles. "He's out of town for a few days."

She sighs. "Pity. He sure was hot."

Sam turns his laugh into a cough. It's surreal to think of anyone thinking of Lucifer as hot. In the literal sense, Sam has noticed that Lucifer seems to be colder than most people. It's like sitting close to an air conditioner unit sometimes.

"So, what can I get you?" she asks

"A coffee, please, and a short stack." The pancakes had been good the day before. Also, it was Dean's favorite, and Sam is clinging to anything of his brother that he can get.

The waitress walks away, and Sam looks around the diner. There are only a couple of tables filled. An elderly couple are eating together but not talking. It doesn't seem like that silence of animosity, more that they have been together so long that words are not necessary to communicate.

Sam watches them for a moment, his thoughts drifting to Jess. She was the first and last woman he had ever truly loved. He had once hoped of having that future with her. That was all ashes now, and Sam didn't think he would ever have that future. It remained to be seen if anyone would have that future anymore. Sam didn't know Lucifer's plans, but he doubted lazy breakfasts in diners for couples were a part of it.

The waitress comes back over, and she sets a mug and plate down in front of him. She watches as Sam doctors his coffee and takes a bite of the pancakes.

"It's good," he says, wondering what she is waiting for.

"I'm Shirley," she says.

"Sam."

She nods as if she is expecting more, but Sam fails to deliver.

"So," she twirls a strand of hair around her finger, "I was thinking. My shift's over in a few hours, and there's a bar near here..."

Sam raises an eyebrow. Is he being hit on while he tries to eat his breakfast? It seems too bizarre, but as she pulls the elastic out of her hair and shakes her blonde curls over her shoulders he thinks that must be it. He tries not to laugh.

"I'm afraid I'm busy today," he says.

She pouts. "You can't get out of it?"

"No," he says firmly, forking up another mouthful of pancakes. "But thanks."

She looks thoughtful for a moment, and then she claps a hand to her forehead. "Oh, I get it. Sorry."

"What do you get?" Sam's brow creases in confusion.

"You and your friend, you're together, right?"

Sam chokes on his mouthful. Coughing harshly, he tries to speak. "No, definitely not."

"You sure?"

Sam nods, massaging his aching chest. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Then what's the problem?" she asks.

Sam merely looks at her. She can't possibly be so arrogant to believe he must be gay because he's not interested in hooking up with her, can she?

Just then, a voice calls out from the counter. "Shirley, if you're not too busy flirting, these meals need serving."

Shirley gives Sam one last assessing glance, and then she turns and walks back to the counter.

Sam's appetite is gone. He pushes away his plate and tosses a couple of bills down to cover his tab and Shirley's tip, not that she really earned herself one.

When Sam gets back to his room, he notices right away how empty it is. He walks over to the bed and grabs the remote, turning on the TV. Kicking his shoes off, he flops down on the bed and sees what's on. He finds himself drawn to the news. He wonders if he can pin down Lucifer's presence in the stories. There is nothing of interest though, and so he flicks it off and goes to the laptop.

He takes a seat at the desk while the computer begins to load. Once it's up, he goes to Google and begins searching for patterns in the news. Anything that might clue him into Lucifer's whereabouts. He doesn't see anything.

Sighing, he rakes a hand through his hair and pushes himself back from the desk. He gets up and begins to pace the room. It seems all too big now that there is no one there to share it with.

He thinks of going out, to the park or something, and then he remembers the fallout from his last trip to the park, and it sours his mood.

Thoughts of the little girl, Sarah, and her family sweep through his mind. It was all his fault. That was the fact his mind kept returning to. If he hadn't interfered, only one person would have died that day. It would have been tragic, but not as bad as the entire family losing their lives.

He throws himself down on the bed and covers his face with his arm. Feeling alone and with nothing left to do, he curls up on the bed and closes his eyes. Sleep doesn't find him easily though and he spends most of his first night alone wrestling with nightmares. He wakes more than once in a cold sweat.

When the first rays of morning light shine in through the window, Sam groans and covers his head with a pillow.

As he lays there with the pillow over his head, acting much like a child, he realizes he needs to do something. He can't just waste his time doing nothing when everyone else around him is fighting, for good or bad.

Knowing Chuck is watching, and therefore Dean, he pushes himself up out of bed and prepares for another day,

He showers and dresses and then settles himself down at the desk. Booting up his laptop, he taps his fingers against his leg as he waits for it to load. When he has a webpage open, he types in the address for one of his favorite news sites. It's a little eclectic, dealing with alien abductions and crop circles as much as real news, but he has found clues for cases there before. Halfway down the page he finds something hopeful. There has been an animal mauling in Bloomington, Indiana. He pulls up the local police department's records and hacks his way through their joke of a firewall. Soon, he has the report open, and he sees the telltale sign of supernatural: a missing heart.

He claps his hands and raises his eyes. "Chuck, I hope you're watching this, buddy. Tell Dean to check out the news for Bloomington, Indiana. I think we have a werewolf." He considers for a moment. "And, Chuck, tell them I'm okay."

 

xXx

It catches Sam off guard when he sees it. It's the second day since Lucifer left. He is in a small convenience store to buy the local paper, thinking it would at least be something to stave off the boredom, when the headline greets him: A TOWN IN MOURNING. Below the headline, there is a picture of the smiling family of four. The family whose death he caused. He picks up the paper and skims the article. It's announcing the funeral.

Seeing the smiling faces represented in black and white newsprint affects Sam, and he finds himself staring longingly at the array of liquor behind the counter. Without thought, he asks the kid behind the counter for a bottle of Jack Daniel's. The kid raises an eyebrow, probably because of the early hour, but he doesn't comment. A few minutes later, Sam's clutching his paper wrapped bottle and hurrying back to the hotel.

When he gets inside his room, he kicks off his shoes and goes to the small counter to get a glass. He pours the amber liquid and slugs it back in one swallow. It burns his throat and makes him gasp, but it feels good. It's something to ground him in the present rather than letting his mind wander back to recent events.

The second glass goes down smoother and the third smoother still. By the time half the bottle is gone, Sam is no longer bothering with a glass. He's necking it from the bottle.

That begins the days of drinking and attempting to forget.

xXx

"Meg!" Sam bellows from the doorway.

Meg appears and her nose wrinkles in disgust. She looks Sam up and down. "You bellowed."

"I need a drink," Sam says.

"I would have thought you'd had enough already."

Sam attempts to focus on her; it's hard as the alcohol is muddling his mind. "I didn't ask your opinion, Meg. I just said I needed a drink. Now, off you go." He waves a hand at her.

Meg visibly pales. "I'm not saying this because I care, because I truly don't, but don't you think you've had enough? Lucifer will be back tomorrow, and he's not going to be pleased if you're dead of alcohol poisoning."

Sam hiccups. "He'll just bring me back."

Meg scowls at him. "Fine, I'll get you a drink, but you have to do something for me in return."

Sam looks confused. "What do you want?"

"I want you to shower your grungy ass."

Sam throws back his head and laughs. "Sure, I'll shower. Gotta look good for when the Devil returns." That said, he slams the door shut in her face and plods back to the bed where he falls face down onto the mattress.

Some small vestige of normal behavior remains, and he realizes Chuck would be watching all of this. He raises his head and stares blearily at the opposite wall. "It's not what it looks like, Dean. Honest."

 

xXx

Sam rolls out of bed around noon the next day. He feels terrible. When he drags himself into the bathroom and examines himself in the mirror above the sink, he sees that he looks terrible, too. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he sighs. He hasn't let himself get his bad since the weeks after Dean's death. Then he had spent his days in a haze of alcohol and fury. He thinks back over the last seven days, and he curses himself. Chuck would have been privy to every single drink, and unless Sam was blessed with extraordinary luck, Dean would know all about it, too.

He turns on the shower and steps under the scorching spray of water. He feels grimy and disgusting. He can't remember the last time he showered or shaved. Judging by the scruff along his jawline, it's been a few days.

When he finally feels clean again, he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist. Standing at the sink, he shaves, and then he brushes his teeth. He looks much better, even if he doesn't particularly feel it.

He walks back into the bedroom and pulls on a clean set of clothes. He notes the mess he has made of his room in the last week. The floor is strewn with clothes and there are empty bottles of whiskey dotted around the room. He gathers up his clothes and stuffs them into the laundry bag. Then he picks up the empty bottles and carries them to the door.

"Meg," he calls.

She appears at the door a moment later. "Winchester."

"Can you get rid of these for me?" he asks.

She blinks slowly. "That was almost polite. What's wrong with you? You look different." She taps a hand on her chin. "I know what it is! You're sober. How does it feel to be back among the living?"

Sam scowls at her. "Will you do it or not?"

"I'll do it," she says, taking the bottles from him. "But don't confuse this with me actually caring."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Not a chance."

He closes the door and goes back to the desk. He doesn't know what time Lucifer will be back, so he rallies for something to do to kill the time. He doesn't feel like eating. Though, he's not sure when he last ate a proper meal. Maybe when Lucifer gets back they could go out to the diner.

He turns on the laptop and searches the police reports from Bloomington to see if there is any sign of Dean taking care of the werewolf.

He skims through a report and spots something to make him smile despite the ache of longing it evokes. Agents Shaw and Young from the FBI joined the local law enforcement in the investigation.

It has to be Dean and Cas. The thought makes him happy and sad in equal measure. He's happy because Dean is out there fighting still, and he got the message, but he's sad because it is Cas working with Dean and not him. It makes him feel a pang of hurt to know that he's been replaced, but he knows it's for the best. It's not like he's going to be back in the game anytime soon.

He slams the laptop shut and strides back to the bed. Perching on the edge, he settles down to wait for Lucifer's return.

The shadows lengthen and the sun sinks and still Sam waits. When full dark comes, Sam gets to his feet and grabs his jacket. If he hurries, he can get to the store before it closes.

 

xXx

Lucifer hates being delayed, but raising horsemen takes a lot more work that you would imagine, even for him.

It's two weeks after he left Sam in the hotel that he returns, though to him it feels much longer. He has been frustrated by all the delays, and he has wanted to get back to Sam. Finally, after days of facilitating the horseman's whims and needs, he is free to return.

He's surprised to see Meg standing outside Sam's room when he arrives in the early hours of the morning.

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you bothering him again, Meg?"

Meg shakes her head. "I'm just making sure he doesn't go for a stroll in his shorts again."

Lucifer looks confused. "A stroll in his what?"

"Boxer shorts," she says casually. "He got it into his head a couple of nights ago that he needed air. He forgot to dress himself first, though."

Lucifer rubs a hand over his face. "Why do I get the feeling I am missing something vital here?"

Meg gives him a truncated account of what Sam has been doing for the last two weeks, including the alcohol binges, picking fights with demons, and his lack of personal hygiene. That seems to bother Meg more than anything.

Lucifer frowns as he listens. "Why would he do this?" he asks.

"It looks to me like he's having what humans call a nervous breakdown. He's never been the most stable of humans."

Lucifer ignores the slight criticism of Sam. He thinks she may have a point.

"Very well," he says. "I shall go to him."

Lucifer opens the door and steps inside. What he sees, shocks him. It stops him dead in his tracks. Sam is perched against the headboard of the unmade bed. The room is filled with empty bottles of various liquors, but predominantly whiskey. Lucifer's nose wrinkles as he smells the air. He now knows what Meg was talking about when she mentioned his personal hygiene. The room smells like old whiskey and sick. Somehow, Sam has managed to take the luxurious room and lower it to the standards of the motel they had recently vacated.

Sam is in pajama pants and a dirty white tee, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He looks over to Lucifer and blinks.

Lucifer studies him for a moment, his beard is unshaven and his hair is unwashed and hanging in strings around his face.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Sam says, tipping his bottle back and taking swig.

"Sam," Lucifer greets with a nod. "I see you have found a way to pass the time."

Sam hiccups and takes another drink. "Yep."

Lucifer tilts his head to the side. "I think you have had more than enough alcohol for one day."

Sam laughs. "Well, how does it feel to be wrong?" He takes another drink.

Lucifer shakes his head. There is something almost endearing about a drunk Sam.

"I am merely trying to help you, Sam."

"Maybe I don't want help… Maybe I just want to forget."

"Forget what?"

Sam swirls the contents of the bottle, watching it as he does. He looks up at Lucifer. "Maybe I just want to forget it all."

Lucifer nods. "I'm sorry you feel that way. May I ask what happened to bring you to this state?"

Sam swallows and hiccups again. "Their funeral was last week."

Lucifer's brow furrows and he tries to think. He's not sure who … and then it hits him. Sam is talking about the Miller family. He's talking about Sarah. It all begins to make sense now.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Lucifer says as he walks to the bed and takes a seat beside Sam. "That must be difficult for you."

Sam goes to take another swig of whiskey but Lucifer reaches out and places his hand on Sam's, stopping him. "No more, Sam."

Sam pauses and looks down at Lucifer's hand. An unreadable expression crosses Sam features and then it's gone.

He shakes off Lucifer's hand like it burned him, and Lucifer can't help but feel a pang of hurt at the loss of contact.

Sam doesn't take another drink, though, which Lucifer is thankful for, as he can tell Sam's already had way too much.

Sam looks down at his hands, which are both now clutching the bottle. "Where were you?"

"Not far. I told you, I am always only a prayer away. Why didn't you call for me?"

Sam shrugs, eyes downcast. "I thought I could handle it. I thought… I guess I was wrong."

"You thought what, Sam?"

"I thought you would come back, but you didn't."

Sam's words hurt Lucifer. He regrets being gone so long, especially now that's it's clear that Sam needed him. "I'm here now," he says, hoping his words bring comfort to Sam.

Sam nods and looks up at him. "Yeah, I guess." Sam sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. "I just… I felt so alone. It was the first time since Dean died that I've felt so… empty. I killed that family, Lucifer. Maybe not with my own hands, but I put them all in that car. My actions, no one else's."

Lucifer wishes there was something he could say to soothe Sam, but he falls short. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. You tried to get me out of there."

Lucifer looks at Sam and sees the wetness forming in his eyes. "It's not fair," Sam says.

"No it's not." Lucifer takes the bottle from Sam's grasp and sets it down on the nightstand. "But you can't lose yourself to the pain like this. Think of Dean, think of your family. You have so much and yet you don't see it."

A tear trickles down Sam's cheek and he sniffles. "It hurts."

"I know, Sam. I understand," Lucifer says softly. "Why don't you go shower and change? You'll feel better for it."

Sam wipes the tears from his eyes and nods. Lucifer stands and watches as Sam pushes himself from the bed to stand on wobbly legs. He makes his way to the bathroom and closes the door.

Lucifer takes a deep breath and sighs, looking around the room. He has his work cut out for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the love you keep giving us. It really keeps us going.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading.

Castiel takes them back to Canton after they have exhausted the hunt for Jesse Turner and they pick up the Impala. Castiel has things to attend to, so Dean drives back to Bobby's alone. It is a strange and solitary journey, and more than once, he finds his eyes drifting to the empty passenger seat. He wonders how Sam is and what he is doing. When he gets back to Bobby's place, he will have pages to catch up on. He looks forward to reading them, as they are the only connection to his brother that he has at the moment.

It's dawn when he pulls into the scrap yard, and as he climbs from the car, Castiel appears beside him.

"Dean," he says in that familiar dry tone.

"Cas." Dean nods. "You get your business done with?"

Castiel frowns. "Not to any productive degree."

"What were you doing?"

"I am still committed to the search for my father," Castiel says.

Dean feels a pang of guilt. Castiel was on the hunt for God when Sam went to Lucifer. He's ashamed to say he hadn't given it a moment's thought since.

"Cas, man, I'm sorry," he says. "We've been keeping you from that..."

"It is okay," Castiel says. "Sam's capture and subsequent imprisonment has taken priority, even for me, but in the times that you do not need me, I shall continue my hunt. If my father can be found, he may be the key to freeing Sam, too."

Dean nods thoughtfully as he lets himself into the house. "Thanks, Cas."

Though it's early, there is the scent of coffee in the air, and the sound of pounding keys as they open the door. Bobby calls out a greeting to them, and Chuck nods from his position at the keyboard.

"You're all up and about early," Dean says.

"I was woken by hammer-fingers over there," Bobby says grumpily.

"I'm sorry," Chuck says, not sounding remotely repentant.

Dean helps himself to coffee, and then he picks up the pages that are sat by the printer from the previous days. "You read these?" he asks Bobby.

Bobby shakes his head. "Chuck gave me the highlights. I figured you'd want to be the first."

Dean appreciates Bobby's thought. It seems petty, but he wants to be the first, well, second including Chuck, person to know how Sam is. He feels that it's his right as a brother. He starts to read.

He's amused that Sam is caught off guard by the Devil when he steps out of the shower. The fact that Sam blushes makes him laugh. It may be the Devil doing it, but anyone that can get a blush out of Sam is worth recognizing.

He actually stops reading mid-sentence and turns to Chuck when he reads about Sam encouraging Lucifer to eat.

"Seriously, Chuck?"

"I have told you before," Chuck says. "I don't control them. I merely transcribe it. Sam evidently decided that Lucifer needed this experience."

"Yeah, but eating..."

"I have not tried it," Castiel says thoughtfully. "Why have I never tried it?"

"We'll cook you up some eggs and bacon as soon as we're done here," Dean says distractedly, and then he continues to read. Before he gets to the section of Lucifer eating, he reaches a more painful part of Sam's day. _"'I just wish something would make sense. Everything has been so confusing lately. I don't know. It's just a lot, I guess. I miss Dean. I miss Bobby. I miss my life.'"_

Bobby looks up at Dean and a moment of unspoken communication passes between them. They are both thinking the same thing: they miss him, too.

Dean clears his throat and continues down the page. " _Lucifer watches Sam for a moment and then brings his fork down to the stack of pancakes in front of him. Slowly, he brings a forkful of pancake up to his mouth, and with one last look down at it, he brings it to his mouth. Sam has to repress a laugh as he watches the Devil. He's making the process of eating seem painful._ " Dean pauses to chuckle. "Maybe you don't want to try eating after all, Cas."

Castiel nods. "These pages are not only informative, they are also amusing. It is a testament to your brother's character that he can persuade Lucifer to eat."

"Yeah," Dean says thoughtfully. "What's up with that? Why would he bother?"

"As he says in the pages, Sam is special," Chuck says cryptically.

"You going to explain that at all?" Dean asks.

Chuck shakes his head. "No. You might want to get on with reading." That said, he turns his attention back to the computer and begins hammering away at the keys again.

When Dean comes to the discussion of Lucifer's fall from grace, he stops for a moment to look at Castiel. " _Lucifer stiffens. 'You are asking me how it felt to be cast out of heaven.' Sam nods. Part of him wants to retract the question, to remove the look of anguish from Lucifer's face. But another, more dominant part of him wants to know the answer. 'Painful,' Lucifer says softly. 'Not physically, but emotionally. I did not just fall as your friend Castiel did; I was cast out. My brother, my beloved family, sent me away and left me to rot. I was so angry." His hands fist on the tabletop. "Furious that they had all chosen your kind over me. Imagine your brother choosing an ant over you, and you can come close to understanding my confusion._ '" Castiel looks only mildly interested, and Dean bites back the question of whether or not it was painful for him.

Dean reads Sam's reaction, and a huge part of him wishes Sam was there just so he could shake some sense into him. What the hell is Sam thinking feeling sympathetic towards the Devil? Why would he want to comfort him? It gets worse as he continues reading and sees that Sam is falling into the Devil's trap and thinking that Lucifer genuinely cares for him. It's ridiculous.

Dean feels a wave of some painful emotion as Sam recites his first memory. He didn't know Sam remembered that day. He was right; it was a painful memory for Dean, as his father had been spitting mad when he come home to find Sam had bust his lip open under Dean's watch.

The hardest part of the pages comes next, the news of the family's death. Dean feels a pang of hurt as Sam reacts to the news, and he turns to Castiel. "Did you know this would happen?"

Castiel shakes his head. "I've had little contact with reapers before. I thought there would be a price to pay for what Sam did, but I did not expect it to be this."

Dean frowns. This was the last thing Sam needed on his conscience.

"Is there anything more in here?" Dean asks Chuck.

Chuck shakes his head. "Nothing important. Sam will spend the rest of the day feeling pretty low and Lucifer will do his best to cheer him up."

Dean moves onto the next day's pages. He reads, and it seems an ordinary day until Lucifer announces that he is leaving. Dean is torn between relief that Sam will have some space from the Devil and worry that whatever Lucifer is leaving for is going to cause problems for the rest of the world.

He skims through the pages, breaking into laughter at the waitress's inept attempts at flirting. He howls when he reads her misunderstanding the relationship with Sam and Lucifer. The idea that they could possibly be a couple amuses him so much that it takes a few minutes for him to calm himself down.

He reads as Sam returns to the hotel and searches for signs of Lucifer on the laptop and finds nothing. He reads the last of the page aloud.

_"Thoughts of the little girl, Sarah, and her family sweep through his mind. It was all his fault. That was the fact his mind kept returning to. If he hadn't interfered, only one person would have died that day. It would have been tragic, but not as bad as the entire family losing their lives. He throws himself down on the bed and covers his face with his arm. Feeling alone and with nothing left to do, he curls up on the bed and closes his eyes. Sleep doesn't find him easily though, and he spends most of his first night alone wrestling with nightmares. He wakes more than once in a cold sweat."_

Dean looks to Chuck. "That's it? He's just going to sleep the rest of the day away?"

Chuck nods somberly. "I think Lucifer's absence and memories of the young girl have soured Sam's mood enough that he prefers sleep at the moment."

Dean frowns. That doesn't sound like his brother at all. He hates sitting around with nothing to do and would never waste a day sleeping while there was something he could be doing. Then it occurs to Dean that there is nothing else Sam can be doing. Without even the Devil there for company, he has nothing.

"You got something for today?" Dean asks Chuck.

Chuck nods. "Give me a sec." He pounds a couple more keys and the printer begins spitting out pages. As Dean reaches for them, Chuck clears his throat. "Sam has a message for you."

Dean merely looks his confusion.

"Sam knows that I am watching him for you, and he used the connection to communicate."

Dean grins. "Sneaky son of a bitch. Why didn't we think of this before?"

"The connection only works one way," Chuck says. "We have no way of getting messages to him, but he can communicate with us."

"Well, what did he say?" Bobby asks.

"He's found what he believes to be a werewolf hunt in Bloomington, Indiana."

"And?" Dean prompts.

"And he says he's okay."

"That's it?" Dean sounds disappointed.

"What were you hoping for?" Bobby asks. "A secret outline of Lucifer's master plan?"

Dean shakes his head. "No, I guess not."

"He's done the best he can with what he has," Bobby says doggedly.

"I know that," Dean says defensively. "I was just hoping for... I don't know. He says he's okay, but reading through these pages it's obvious that he's not remotely okay."

Bobby scrubs a hand through his beard. "I think he's doing as well as we can hope given the circumstances. Now, are you going to get on with those pages or should I read?"

Dean shuffles the pages and clears his throat before he begins reading.

_"As he lays there with the pillow over his head, acting much like a child, he realizes he needs to do something. He can't just waste his time doing nothing when everyone else around him is fighting, for good or bad. Knowing Chuck is watching, and therefore Dean, he pushes himself up out of bed and prepares for another day."_

Dean is glad that Sam is aware that what's he's doing is unhealthy, and he's pleased when Sam gets up and showers.

He's impressed that Sam is thinking of him and hunting despite his captivity, and when he reads Sam's research into the hunt aloud, Bobby clears his throat.

"I had Chuck look it up for you. It definitely sounds like a werewolf."

Dean nods. "Gotcha. I'll hit the hay for a few hours and then Cas and I will head out to Indiana. That okay, Cas, or do you need to be getting on with the God hunt?"

Castiel looks thoughtful for a moment. "I will use the time you are resting to search and then I can with good conscience aid you in the defeat of the werewolf."

Dean nods his satisfaction. He's able to take down a werewolf alone, he's done it before, but he likes hunting with Castiel, and it makes things move faster.

He skims through the rest of Sam's day, which is mainly spent searching for Lucifer on the laptop without success. He's satisfied as he comes to the last page to see that Sam is eating and taking care of himself the best he can in a crappy situation.

"Okay," he says. "I'm going to get a few hours sleep then I can head out."

"You might want to try eating something, too," Bobby says. "Sam's not the only one that needs to take care of himself.

Dean nods. "I will. I need sleep more right now, though."

Dean plods up the stairs and throws himself down on the bed. He's asleep within minutes, but his dreams are not peaceful. He dreams that he's found Sam somehow, and they are trying to escape, but every time they open a door, the Devil is behind it calling to Sam to stay. The more he calls to Sam, the lighter Sam's grip on his arm is. He can feel Sam slipping away from him and going back to the Devil.

He wakes up and jerks upright in bed, gasping. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he tries to calm himself down again. He tells himself that it's just a dream, that Sam isn't slipping away from him, but he doesn't get much more sleep that day.

 

xXx

For a werewolf hunt, it was pretty easy. With a few quick interviews and flashes of the fake fed badges, they were able to track him down. It turned out to be a drifter who was staying in the same motel as they were. They caught him on the last night of the cycle, and Dean put him away with a bullet to the heart.

Travelling with Castiel cut down on hours spent driving, and they were back at Bobby's that same night.

As they appear in Bobby's study, Bobby starts and slops coffee down his front.

"Dammit, Cas," he says, wiping at the coffee staining his shirt. "Have you never heard of knocking?"

"I was merely thinking of ease of arrival," Castiel says. "Next time, I shall endeavor to knock."

Dean crosses the room and picks up the stack of pages from beside the printer. "These today's?" he asks.

Bobby rubs at his beard. "Yeah, you um... you might want to take a break before you throw yourself into that."

Dean frowns. "Has something happened?"

"You might say that," Bobby says.

Chuck walks into the study from the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Dean. You're back," he says, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "How was the werewolf hunt?"

"You telling me you didn't see it?" Dean asks then shakes his head. "Never mind that, what's the deal with Sam? Bobby said something happened. Is he okay?"

Chuck nods. "He's okay. It's just that he... um..."

"Spit it out, Chuck!" Dean snaps.

"He had some bad news, and he's kinda been drinking," Chuck pauses, "a lot."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Sam can't drink. He's a lightweight."

"Someone should tell him that," Chuck says with a nervous laugh.

"It'll be easier if you just read the pages," Bobby says.

Dean snatches them up from the printer tray. He skims through the morning narration of Sam showering and walking to the store and starts reading aloud as he reaches the important section.

_"It catches Sam off guard when he sees it. It's the second day since Lucifer left. He is in a small convenience store to buy the local paper, thinking it would at least be something to stave off the boredom, when the headline greets him: **A TOWN IN MOURNING.** Below the headline, there is a picture of the smiling family of four. The family whose death he caused. He picks up the paper and skims the article. It's announcing the funeral. Seeing the smiling faces represented in black and white newsprint affects Sam, and he finds himself staring longingly at the array of liquor behind the counter. Without thought, he asks the kid behind the counter for a bottle of Jack Daniel's. The kid raises an eyebrow, probably because of the early hour, but he doesn't comment. A few minutes later, Sam's clutching his paper wrapped bottle and hurrying back to the hotel."_

Dean pauses and rakes a hand through his hair. He can understand Sam's depression at the reminder of the family's death, but he wishes Sam would find a better way to deal with it than drinking. It may be the Winchester way — to block out pain with liquor — but it's not usually Sam's way.

He reads as Sam works his way through the bottle and eventually passes out on the bed, clutching the empty liquor bottle.

"Dammit, Sam," he says in a hoarse voice. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't think he is thinking," Chuck says. "That's the problem. Those are yesterday's pages, but there is more of the same today. Sam's in a bad place, and I'm not just talking about his captivity. He's really depressed, and drinking seems to be the only thing he has going on that he can control."

That makes sense, Dean thinks, but he wishes it didn't. He is filled with frustration for the crappy situation. Somewhere, Sam is hurting, and there isn't a damn thing he can do about it.

"Is there anything I should read in today's pages?" he asks.

Chuck shakes his head. "Not unless you want to play count the bottles with me."

Bobby whistles. "Is it that bad?"

"I can drink," Chuck says, "but even I would struggle to put away the amount of liquor Sam is going to today."

"Is he going to be okay?" Dean asks. "Physically I mean? He's not going to get alcohol poisoning or anything is he?"

"Not today," Chuck says. "Tomorrow... who knows?" He shrugs. "I can only see so much."

"If your brother was to fall ill, Lucifer would heal him," Castiel states.

"I know that, Cas," Dean says irritably. "But I'd still rather he didn't need to."

"We need to keep our heads," Bobby says reasonably. "We can't start sniping at each other."

Dean turns his scowl on him. "That's easy for you to say. It's not your brother drinking himself into a coma."

"You think this is easy for me?" Bobby snaps. "He may not be my blood, but Sam is my boy as much as you are. I don't want to read about him abusing himself anymore than you do."

Dean knows he should apologize to Bobby, he knows Bobby cares about Sam, too, but he can't bring himself to say the words. Instead, he stomps out of the house and into the scrap yard. Picking up a tire iron from the toolbox, he vents his frustration on one of the junkers stacked around the house.

His arm swings again and again, pounding metal against metal. He hasn't felt this useless since the days immediately after his father's death. He failed his father then, and he is failing Sam now.

Eventually, muscles burning and back aching, he drops the tire iron onto the ground and goes back to the house. He doesn't speak to anyone; he merely picks up the fresh bottle of whiskey from the counter and carries it up to his bedroom.

If Sam is going to drink himself into oblivion, Dean's going to join him.

 

xXx

Their days fall into an unhappy rhythm. Each morning they congregate in the study and wait for Chuck to give them that day's pages. There is no good news, just more days spent in a haze of alcohol, until the seventh day, the day of Lucifer's expected return.

Dean never thought he would be anxious for the Devil's return, but he can see nothing else breaking his brother out of his liquor soaked haze.

That morning, Dean is awake and making coffee when Chuck stumbles into the kitchen.

"Morning," he grumbles as he leans against the counter waiting for the coffee to brew.

Chuck nods and sits down at the table. He stretches as the computer loads and then he starts hammering away at the keys.

Dean wants to ask him about what's happening that day, but he withholds the questions, knowing he will hear soon enough.

When the coffee is brewed, Dean takes a mug through to Bobby in the study. Castiel isn't at the house, and Dean assumes he out on the hunt for his absent father.

Bobby accepts the mug gratefully and nods towards the kitchen. "Any clues on what we're going to hear today?"

Dean shakes his head. "I can't tell you how weird it is for me to be hoping the Devil is back sooner rather than later."

Bobby nods understandingly. "I know what you mean, boy. I'm the same. I think things will be better for Sam once he is though. I can't see Lucifer letting Sam abuse his body like that."

Castiel returns just as Chuck is printing that day's pages.

Dean snatches the first page up as soon as it is spit out of the printer. He reads aloud for the benefit of Bobby and Castiel. _"Sam rolls out of bed around noon the next day. He feels terrible. When he drags himself into the bathroom and examines himself in the mirror above the sink, he sees that he looks terrible, too. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he sighs. He hasn't let himself get his bad since the weeks after Dean's death. Then, he had spent his days in a haze of alcohol and fury. He thinks back over the last seven days, and he curses himself. Chuck would have been privy to every single drink, and unless Sam was blessed with extraordinary luck, Dean would know all about it, too."_ Dean laughs mirthlessly. "Sorry, Sammy, but no, I know all about it."

He skims through the narration of Sam's shower and interaction with Meg, but he pauses when Sam goes to his laptop.

_"He turns on the laptop and searches the police reports from Bloomington to see if there is any sign of Dean taking care of the werewolf. He skims through a report and spots something to make him smile despite the ache of longing it evokes. Agents Shaw and Young from the FBI joined the local law enforcement in the investigation. It has to be Dean and Castiel. The thought makes him happy and sad in equal measure. He's happy because Dean is out there fighting still, and he got the message, but he's sad because it is Castiel working with Dean and not him. It makes him feel a pang of hurt to know that he's been replaced, but he knows it's for the best. It's not like he's going to be back in the game anytime soon."_

Dean feels a pang of remorse, though he doesn't know why. It's not like he had any choice about pairing up with Castiel, and he definitely hasn't replaced Sam. Still the feeling niggles at him. He reaches for the next page in the printer tray and reads aloud.

_"The shadows lengthen and the sun sinks and still Sam waits. When full dark comes, Sam gets to his feet and grabs his jacket. If he hurries, he can get to the store before it closes."_

Dean stops and looks up at Chuck. "Is that it?"

Chuck nods. "Unless you want another recitation of Sam drinking himself stupid. That's all of note that happens that day."

"Lucifer doesn't come back?" Bobby asks.

Chuck looks apologetic, though it is no fault of his own. "He doesn't. I don't know why, but he's not coming back today."

Dean sighs and drops the pages down on the table. "Dammit." He had, they all had, pinned their hopes on Lucifer's return to pull Sam out of his depression, but it wasn't happening today.

"What are we supposed to do?" Dean asks plaintively.

"Do what Sam said," Bobby says. "He told you to keep hunting, so you keep hunting."

Dean scowls. "That was part of a deal. I was supposed to hunt, and he was supposed to stay strong. From what I've read, he's not holding to his end of the deal."

"Sam's got a lot going on at the moment..." Bobby says.

"And I don't?" Dean asks angrily.

"You do, but at least you have your friends with you. Sam is alone, with the guilt of that family's death hanging over his head."

"But it wasn't his fault."

"I know that, and you know that, but apparently Sam doesn't. So he's drinking himself into a stupor 'cause that's all he can do at the moment. Now, I've nailed down a demon hotspot in Arkansas. You going to go take care of it, or do I have to call on Rufus?"

"I'll do it," Dean says grudgingly. "Cas, you in?"

Castiel steps away from the wall where he has been standing and silently observing the scene. "Of course."

Bobby nods his satisfaction. "Good."

 

xXx

Dean and Castiel were in Texas, hunting down another demon hotspot when Bobby calls them in the early hours of the morning.

"Chuck just woke me up. The kid's all a quiver about something he saw," he says. "I think you guys best get back here."

No sooner than Dean hung up the phone, they were standing on Bobby's front porch.

Dean lets them into the house and rushes into the study. "What's happening?" he asks Chuck at once.

"Lucifer is returning today," Chuck says.

"About damn time," Dean says, letting out a sigh. "Is Sam okay?"

Chuck nods. "He will be. I haven't written the pages yet today, but there's a stack there for you."

"Anything in there other than my brother attempting to pickle his liver?"

Chuck laughs. "There was an interesting interaction with a demon I thought you'd enjoy. I highlighted it for you."

Dean flicks through the pages of print until he comes to one with a yellow highlighted section, which he reads aloud.

_"Sam waits impatiently for Meg to return with the liquor he sent her out to get. He starts when he hears a knock at the door. Meg never knocks. She just barges in whenever she feels like it. He struggles to his feet and swings open the door. Standing on the threshold is the most unfortunate looking demon Sam has ever seen. He comes up to Sam's elbow and he has a round pudgy face. 'Well, aren't you adorable," Sam says. 'I didn't know they made demons in fun-size.' The demon scowls. "And I didn't know humans came in gigantor size.' Sam reaches out to pat the demon on the head, but it jumps back. 'I didn't mean to startle you, little fella," Sam says. The demon looks ready to take a swing at Sam. 'I am not here for your amusement," the demon says. 'I come with a warning.' 'Are the Munchkins attacking?" Sam asks. 'No, you buffoon, Lucifer is going to be—' 'Keith!' a woman's voice calls out. 'Meg,' Sam says. He's relieved to see her. Not only will she make the tiny angry man go away, but she has an armful of liquor bottles.'_

Dean stops reading there and wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes. Chuck is beaming back at him, and even Castiel is smiling.

"I've got to give your brother props," Chuck says. "It's the first time I woke from a dream because I was laughing so hard.

It was exactly what they all needed, something light after the last two weeks of depression. Sam was at least a funny drunk rather than a surly one.

Chuck sits down at the computer and starts that day's pages. While he writes, Dean makes coffee and a sandwich. He's been awake for almost twenty hours straight, and it's beginning to take its toll on him.

When the pages begin to stream from the printer,, he snatches them up and reads hurriedly. Sam is working his way through another bottle of whiskey when Lucifer returns.

_"'Look what the cat dragged in,' Sam says, tipping his bottle back and taking a swig. 'Sam,' Lucifer greets with a nod. 'I see you have found a way to pass the time.' Sam hiccups and takes another drink. 'Yep.' Lucifer tilts his head to the side. 'I think you have had more than enough alcohol for one day.' Sam laughs. 'Well, how does it feel to be wrong?' He takes another drink."_

Bobby gapes at Dean. "Is your brother seriously sassing the Devil?"

Dean nods. "Yep. And it doesn't look like Sam is going to be sobering up anytime soon either."

"He will," Chuck says. "You just need to keep reading."

Dean reads Sam and Lucifer's conversation, feeling grateful when Lucifer persuades Sam to relinquish the bottle, but confused by Sam's apparent grief at the Devil's absence. _"'I thought you would come back, but you didn't.' 'I'm here now,' Lucifer says. Sam nods and looks up at him. 'Yeah, I guess.' Sam sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. 'I just … I felt so alone. It was the first time since Dean died that I've felt so … empty.'"_

Dean pauses and looks at Chuck. "Sam missed Lucifer?"

Chuck nods. "I don't know the reasoning behind it, but part of this alcohol binge is down to the fact Lucifer wasn't there, and not just because he wasn't there to stop him. I'm sorry, Dean, I know you don't want to hear it, but I don't control what happens. Something is changing, and all we can do is wait and see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who is commenting. We still can't believe the response this story has got. Thank you so much – Snarks and Clowns.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading.

When Sam wakes late the next morning, he is aware he is being watched before he even opens his eyes. He can feel Lucifer’s gaze on him. He cracks open an eye and looks over to the corner where the fallen angel is perched on the edge of the desk.

“Good morning, Sam,” Lucifer says in a serene tone.

Sam groans and buries his head further into the pillow. “It’s not a good morning.”

“I imagine it isn’t for you. My demons have appraised me on the aftereffects of alcohol. I imagine you are feeling quite unwell at the moment.”

“I am.” Sam’s voice is muffled by the pillow, but Lucifer hears him clearly.

“Would you like me to heal you?” Lucifer offers.

Sam raises his head slowly and blinks at the angel. “You can do that?”

“I am an angel, Sam. Healing a hangover is the least of my abilities.” He steps closer to the bed and leans down to touch Sam’s temple.

It feels too intimate to Sam, for Lucifer to touch him like that, but as Lucifer’s cool fingers make contact with his skin, he ceases to care about intimacy as a rush of warmth passes through him and his headache vanishes.

“Thanks,” he says, pushing the blankets back and sitting up.

Lucifer smiles. “You are very welcome. Now, what would you like to do today?”

Sam yawns. “Breakfast would be good.”

“Of course. Would you like to order something here or would you like to go to the diner?”

Sam considers. If he stays here, he has the added benefit of avoiding Shirley, but if he goes to the diner, he can perhaps enjoy her attempts at flirting with Lucifer. That should be interesting. Also, he can’t remember the last time he left the hotel for anything like fresh air.

“Let’s go out.”

He gets out of bed and heads into the bathroom. When he comes out, Lucifer is gone, but Sam thinks that he is close by, waiting for him to call him back. He dresses and shoves his feet into his boots and then calls to the fallen angel.

“Lucifer.”

With a soft fluttering of wings, Lucifer returns and smiles at Sam. “Ready?”

Sam nods, and Lucifer opens the door and gestures for him to go ahead. On the stairs, they pass a short demon, who glares balefully at Sam before catching Lucifer’s eye and hurrying away.

Sam takes a deep breath of fresh, clean air as they step out onto the street. It feels good to be outside again. Now, in the sober light of day, Sam is able to see just how far he let himself fall in the last two weeks. He thinks of Dean and wonders how he reacted to seeing Sam in such a mess. Was he angry as Sam blotted out days in a haze of alcohol, or did he understand Sam’s weakness?

There was no way of knowing, not without speaking to him in person, and he had a feeling that it would be a while before he could speak to him again.

When they reached the diner, Lucifer opened the door for him and then followed Sam inside to the booth they had sat at before.

Sam notices that the same elderly couple that occupied a table two weeks ago are there again. He nods to them, and Lucifer follows his gaze. He looks confused.

“It’s lesson two in the good of humanity,” Sam says with a smile. “Tell me that’s a bad thing.”

Lucifer watches them for a moment and then shakes his head. “I cannot.”

Sam grins. “See? Humanity isn’t all bad. There’s good stuff if you know where to look.”

Lucifer nods. “Lesson two goes to you, Sam. You are right; I can see nothing to criticize in that scene, except their advanced age, of course. Sooner or later, they will be parted.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “But, like you said before, they’ll go to a better place, and maybe they can be together there. Besides, we can’t all be immortal.”

Lucifer looks slightly sad at that observation, as if Sam’s words have revealed something to him that he didn’t want to know.

Before Sam can ask Lucifer to explain his melancholy, Shirley comes out from behind the counter and struts toward their table.

“Hello again, boys,” she says, pushing out her chest. “What can I get you today?”

“I’ll have waffles and a coffee, please,” Sam says, smiling at her attempts to catch Lucifer’s eye.

“And you?” she asks, looking to Lucifer.

“Nothing for me, thank you,” Lucifer says.

Her lips purse into a moue of disappointment. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you?”

“No, I am quite all right,” Lucifer says.

She struts away from the table, hips swinging, and passes their order through a hatch behind the counter.

Once she’s out of earshot, Sam stops withholding the laughter he has been repressing.

“What was that?” Lucifer asks.

“She likes you,” Sam says, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Lucifer looks at him blankly.

“She finds you attractive, Lucifer.”

Lucifer blinks slowly. “Oh.”

Sam breaks into laughter again. “It’s not that strange. Nick is, was, a young guy.”

“An attractive guy?” Lucifer asks.

“Apparently,” Sam says. “Shirley seems to think so anyway. She told me she thought you were hot”

Lucifer smiles. “You humans are so strange with your terms. I think I have caught up to them all and then you say something else equally as confusing.”

“Hot is a good thing, Lucifer.”

Lucifer nods thoughtfully.

They sit in companionable silence until Shirley comes back with Sam’s breakfast. As he forks up the waffles and sips the steaming coffee, Sam watches Lucifer. There is something off about the angel today, as if he is only half there. The majority of his attention seems elsewhere.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, as he swallows the last of his breakfast.

Lucifer starts. “I’m sorry?”

Now Sam knows there is something wrong. Angels don’t start. At least he has never seen it before.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Lucifer sighs heavily. “I merely have a lot on my mind today, Sam.”

“You want to talk about it?” Sam asks, not quite believing the words until they leave his own mouth. He supposes he owes the fallen angel a favor after he healed Sam of his monster hangover.

“Actually, I do,” Lucifer says. “But I think it’s best that we go back to the hotel. Talk of horsemen is better saved for when we have privacy.”

Sam drops bills down onto the table and waves goodbye to Shirley. She watches them leave with a disappointed expression, and Sam thinks that he is going to be bringing Lucifer back to the diner for lunch, too. It’s worth it to see her attempt to flirt with Lucifer.

When they are back in the hotel, Sam sits on the bed, resting his back against the headboard, and Lucifer perches on the edge of the computer desk.

“So,” Sam says. “What’s up?”

“Famine,” Lucifer says.

Sam smiles. “I would have thought running out of food would be the least of your worries.”

Lucifer frowns.

“Okay, I was kidding. What’s Famine done wrong?”

“He is a posturing pest,” Lucifer says, waving his hand in the air. “I have never known anyone like him, and you should have met my brother Gabriel.”

Sam chuckles. It’s so bizarre to think of Lucifer as having brothers. Though he knows Lucifer once had a family, brothers like him, it doesn’t fit Sam’s image of him.

“Really, you should,” Lucifer says. “You have never met anyone like him.”

Sam marvels at the direction their conversation has taken. The fact it is a civil conversation at all is strange. He, a hunter wanting nothing more than to thwart his plans, is having a chat with the Devil about his errant brothers. Sam almost wants to reciprocate with a story about Dean, but he doesn’t. He knows Dean will be privy to this conversation via Chuck, and it would annoy his brother.

“So, Famine,” Sam says. “What’s with the posturing? He does realize who you are, right?”

Lucifer rests his palms down on the edge of the desk and thrums his fingers against the wood. “As the least useful horseman, he’s the most aggravating. He’s a physical wreck, which is something to do with you humans, I don’t really know or care. The problem is he is a demanding wreck.”

“What’s he demanding?” Sam asks curiously.

Lucifer frowns. “I know what you are doing, Sam. I know you are attempting to work against me. Nothing I can tell you of Famine will aid you in my defeat,”

Sam is stunned. He hadn’t been thinking about defeating Lucifer at all when he initiated the conversation. He just wanted to know who or what was powerful enough to irk Lucifer. He _should_ have been thinking of defeating him, though. And he’s angry with himself for letting that fall by the wayside. He thinks of Dean and Bobby, and he feels a pang of guilt. They are fighting while he’s laughing it up with Lucifer. What was he thinking?

“You’re upset,” Lucifer states. “Why?”

“Would you believe that I wasn’t thinking of your defeat when I asked?”

Lucifer nods. “If you tell me you weren’t, I will believe you. Is that what’s upset you, that I misunderstood?”

Sam shakes his head. “No. I’m angry for myself because, for a moment, I forgot.”

Lucifer looks at him sympathetically. “I understand. It must be hard for you to see me as a threat all the time while you are forced to see that I am not the monster I am portrayed as.” He pauses. “How can I help you?”

Sam shrugs. “There’s nothing you can do. It’s all on me.”

“Would you like to hear about Famine?”

Sam smiles. “Sure.”

“Well, as I said, he’s a demanding horseman. It’s incongruous, as he’s the least useful of the quartet. There is little he can do for me other than to complete the set.”

“But you’re keeping him around anyway?” Sam asks.

Lucifer shrugs. “I am a collector, and I like the full set.”

Sam laughs. “So what is he demanding?”

“Souls, endless amounts of souls. That’s how he sustains himself.”

Sam frowns. “How many people are you killing just to complete the set, Lucifer?”

“Killing? None. You can live without a soul, but I wouldn’t recommend it. The soul is the truth and being of a person, the conscience. It’s what makes you who you are.”

“So you’ve doomed how many people to a life without a soul to please a horseman?”

Lucifer frowns. “Many.” He looks like he is going to say more but a knock at the door interrupts him. “Enter,” he says loudly.

Meg clicks open the door and pokes her head in. “I am sorry to disturb you, but there is someone here to see you.”

Lucifer looks stunned, and then realization catches up to him. “Famine.”

It’s the closest to an expletive that Sam has ever heard him mutter.

He turns to Sam. “I apologize, Sam. I must leave you.”

Sam nods. “Okay.”

Lucifer sweeps out of the room, and Meg clicks the door closed behind her. Sam is alone again.

He moves to the desk Lucifer has just vacated, and he boots up the laptop. He skims through the morning news, finding nothing important, and snaps it closed again.

What he wants more than anything is to be able to talk to Dean. He feels like he’s slipping, and he needs his brother to ground him again. He knows Dean is watching him through Chuck, and he would have seen the conversation between Sam and Lucifer. Dean will know Sam wasn’t thinking of the hunt when he questioned Lucifer about Famine. He must be so disappointed in Sam right now. Sam wishes there was a way to make him understand how confusing it is to be this close to the fallen angel and remember who he really is.

Sam gets up from the desk and paces the small room. He licks his lips as his mouth begins to salivate.

There is something wrong with him. He feels off, almost unwell. He presses a finger to his throat and he feels his pulse racing through his veins. He is about to call to Lucifer, when the sound reaches him. It’s a steady thudding, but it’s not the sound of his own heart he can hear beating in his chest, it’s someone else’s.

The door clicks open, and Meg sticks her head around again. “Sorry to disturb”—the scathing tone she uses obliviates any effect of her polite words—”but Lucifer asked me to tell you he’s going to be delayed in returning to you and he apologizes.”

“I need to see him,” Sam says hoarsely.

“Well, tough luck, Winchester,” she says. “Because he’s busy with people that actually matter.”

Sam feels the tremors starting in his hands, and he hugs his arms around himself. It’s coming, and it’s coming on strong. He feels the need burning in him. He hasn’t felt it this bad since those wretched days in the panic room.

“What’s wrong with you?” Meg asks, and then she smiles. “You can feel it, can’t you? What does precious Sammy Winchester hunger for, huh?”

“Get out of here, bitch,” Sam spits.

“Language,” she chides, and then her eyes widen. “Of course. It’s the blood, right? I bet I smell pretty good right now, don’t I?”

Sam squeezes his eyes shut. “Lucifer, I need you!”

Meg laughs. “You think he can help you, you’re dead wrong. You’re going to have to suffer through this---”

“That’s enough!” a harsh voice says.

Sam looks up and sees Lucifer standing at the door.

“You can leave us now, Meg,” he says. She scurries away and he calls after her. “But we shall be speaking about this later.”

If Sam wasn’t distracted by holding himself together, he would be amused to hear her sharp squeak of alarm. As it is, it’s all he can do not to run after her and attempt to drain her dry.

“Sam, calm down,” Lucifer says gently.

“I think it got to me. I think I'm hungry for it...”

“Hungry for what?” Lucifer asks.

Sam lowers his head. “You know.”

Lucifer sighs. “Demon blood?”

Sam nods jerkily. “I can feel it.”

“I am sorry, Sam. He was never to be brought near you.”

Sam laughs shakily. “Didn't quite work out, did it? What am I supposed to do? I’m a demon blood junkie in a hotel full of demons.”

“I will send them away,” Lucifer says at once. “Can you hold it together a little longer? I must send Famine away. Perhaps if he is not so close, the need won’t be as great.”

Sam nods jerkily, still hugging his arms around himself. “I can try.”

Lucifer reaches out as if to touch him, and then he pulls back his hand. “Stay strong, Sam.”

He leaves the room and Sam drops down into his knees. ‘Stay strong, Sam.’ It was exactly what Dean would say if he was there, and Sam has never needed his brother more. He needs Dean to hold him back and take care of him like he always does, as he can feel himself slipping.

He can hear the footsteps moving up and down the hall, and he knows that they’re demons moving around out there. Demons that are walking up and down with their veins pulsing with the nectar that is demon blood. Nectar... there is no other word for it; the way it tastes and the way it makes him feel...

“Dean,” he moans. “I need you.” He knows Dean can’t hear him, but he needs to say it. Just saying his brother’s name gives him strength. He mumbles it as a litany as he bows his head down so his forehead is touching the floor.

Then it happens. It’s too much. The wave of desire that rips through him is too much to handle. Famine is affecting him more than ever before, and he finds himself on his feet. He crosses the room and roots through his duffel. Pulling out the knife, he stares at its clean edge.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he says to the empty room, and then he forces all thought of his brother from his mind and focuses on getting what he needs.

The hall has fallen silent now, there is no movement, but Sam doesn’t need it. He can hear the pounding hearts behind the closed doors and he selects one where there is only one demon inside. He doesn’t want to have to fight too hard. He wants the blood now. Once he is strengthened, he can pin the others in place as he feeds. It will be so easy.

The door clicks open and he sees a short demon sitting on the edge of the bed. Casa Erotica is playing on the television, and the demon looks up and starts as Sam enters.

“What do you want?” it asks.

“You,” Sam says simply and lunges forward with the knife held aloft.

Sam shouldn’t be able to overpower the demon so easily, but Lucifer’s orders are like a gag on the demon’s strength. Instead of fighting back, he calls out for help.

The knife cuts through the air and finds its mark on the demon’s neck. It slices through the skin and warm, pulsating blood follows.

The first mouthful is exquisite. It fills Sam’s mouth and flows down his throat. The rich taste of it brings Sam’s taste buds to life and he groans his satisfaction. Then comes the rush. The heady feeling of contentment and power that nothing on earth can compare to. Sam is invincible. He is fed. He is sated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Another chapter down. So what did you guys think? As always we want to thank you all for commenting. Until next time, Snarks and Clowns.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading.

Lucifer storms down the stairs and into the lobby. He is incensed by the horseman’s nerve. How dare he come to him here when he was under strict instructions to stay away? Lucifer didn’t want the horseman anywhere near Sam. Now, because of this damned man, Sam’s suffering.

“I told you not to come here,” he says brutally as he steps up to face the man.

Famine is a wreck. He is confined to a wheelchair and dependant on demons for all his many needs, but the one thing he has held onto is his pride.

“I needed to see you,” Famine says.

Lucifer shakes his head. “You could have got a message to me, and I would have come to you.”

Famine shakes his head. “Not enough.”

Suddenly, there is a shout from up the stairs. Lucifer’s head snaps to the right and fear grips him. It’s Sam, he can feel it, but he doesn’t know what is happening. He races up the stairs and follows the shouts to an open door on the corridor. He comes to an abrupt halt as he sets eyes on the scene in the room.

Sam is kneeling on the floor, bowed over a demon. The demon is struggling, but Sam’s strength overpowers him. Sam’s mouth is pressed against a wound on the demon’s throat, and he is sucking at the blood and gulping it down.

“Sam,” Lucifer says in a sigh.

Sam raises his head, and Lucifer sees the blood smeared around his face.

“Mine,” he says in a growl.

Lucifer raises his hands. “It’s yours, Sam. No one is going to take it from you.”

Sam bows his head over the demon once again, and Lucifer watches as he takes the foul blood into him.

Eventually, Sam rises from the demon. “I want more.”

Lucifer looks sad. “But do you _need_ it?” He knows he cannot allow Sam to run amok through the hotel, sating his need. Sam wouldn’t want that, not the real Sam. At the moment, he is overpowered with bloodlust and longing, but when he comes back to his rational mind, Lucifer knows he will be sickened by what he has done.

There is movement at the door, and Sam stiffens. Meg is standing there, looking in.

“Do you need help?” she asks.

Lucifer shakes his head. “No, we will be—”

It’s too late; Sam is already in action. Fixing his eyes on Meg, he raises a hand and his face contorts with effort.

“Lucifer!” Meg says desperately, wanting assistance.

Lucifer merely watches as Sam’s features twists and he fists a hand. Black smoke pours from Meg’s mouth. The human Meg was possessing falls to the ground as the last of Meg leaves her. She is dead.

Sam looks satisfied. “I have wanted to do that for so long.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was a relief,” Lucifer says conversationally. “Now, how are you feeling?”

“I still want it,” Sam says, and his bright eyes search the room.

Lucifer nods. “Come with me.”

Sam follows dutifully. Lucifer leads him to another room where there are three large jugs of blood on the table. They were there for Lucifer, but they will satisfy Sam for a while at least.

As soon as Sam catches sight of the jugs of blood, he falls on them. Taking one, he raises it to his lips and pours the blood down his throat. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Lucifer watches him sadly, knowing what he is seeing now is going to be so much worse soon.

As Sam drains the last jug, he turns to Lucifer. His eyes have lost their unnatural brightness, and now he looks scared.

“Lucifer, help me,” he pleads. “I can’t... I can’t do this.”

Lucifer steps forward and places a hand on Sam’s arm. “What do you need?”

“More blood,” Sam says at once and then shakes his head. “No, I can’t... I need you to make it stop. He has to stop affecting me. I’m losing myself.”

There is desperation in Sam’s eyes and voice, and Lucifer knows that Sam is hanging by a thread. One step in either direction and the Sam he knows will be lost.

It is for that reason, and that reason alone, that he runs from the room and down the stairs into the lobby.

Famine is smiling his satisfaction. “Did your friend enjoy himself?” he asks.

Rage floods Lucifer, and his eyes fix on the silver ring on Famine’s finger. The light glints off of the black stone. Without conscious thought, Lucifer snaps out a hand and grips Famine’s wrist. “Take it back now,” he hisses.

“I cannot,” Famine says and laughs.

It is the laugh that does it. It incenses Lucifer, and he is in motion before he realizes it. Snapping his wrist, his blade falls into his grip, and be brings it down in a fell swoop. Famine’s hand falls to the floor with a soft thud and Lucifer snatches it up. He wrestles the ring from the finger and tosses the hand back to land in Famine’s lap. Famine is howling and cradling his bloody stump in his other hand.

“Take him away,” Lucifer says to the demons that had accompanied Famine to the hotel, “and never bring him back here.”

Lucifer materializes back in the room where he left Sam, and he knows immediately that Famine’s power has left Sam. He is sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head buried against his knees. He is rocking subtly and murmuring to himself.

“Are you okay, Sam?” Lucifer asks softly.

Sam shakes his head but doesn’t look up.

Lucifer kneels beside him and lays a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “What can I do?”

“I need Dean,” Sam says plaintively. “Please let me call Dean.”

There is little Sam can ask looking that desperate that Lucifer could deny him, and something as simple as a phone call is the least he can do.

“Of course,” he says. He takes the phone from his pocket and hands it to Sam.

Sam dials with shaky fingers.

“Sam?”

Sam draws a shaky breath. “Dean... I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, Sam, don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

“I tried, man. I really tried.”

“I know, buddy. Just take it easy. Things are going to get worse before they get better.”

“I don’t think I can do that again,” Sam says desperately.

“As much as I hate to say it, Lucifer is there with you. Let him help you. I know you can do it. I know you’re stronger than you think.”

Sam looks up at Lucifer, searching for reassurance.

Lucifer nods. “I will help you.”

“I’m scared, Dean,” Sam says. “I’m scared of what I’ll see.”

“Just remember it’s not real, Sam. Whatever you see, it’s not real. It’s going to be okay.”

“I wish you were here.”

“You can do this, Sammy. Just hang on a little longer, okay? If I could be there, I would.”

“I know.” Sam sighs. “I can do this.” He is speaking more to himself than Dean or Lucifer, but Lucifer nods his agreement.

“That’s right, Sam,” Dean says firmly. “You can and you will. I have faith in you.”

Lucifer holds out a hand for the phone and Sam hands it over. “Dean,” Lucifer says in his gentlest tone.

“Lucifer.”

“I know you have a low opinion of me, but trust me when I say I will do all I can to see Sam through this.”

“I don’t have any other choice, do I? You’re all Sam’s got.”

“I will take care of him, Dean,” Lucifer says and then ends the call. He has spent all his patience for brash hunters already.

Sam looks up at him. “Thank you for that.”

“I meant what I said, Sam,” Lucifer says. “I brought this upon you, and I will aid you through it any way I can.”

“Is there anything you can do? Like angel mojo the blood out of me?”

Lucifer frowns. “You don’t know how much I wish I could, but I don’t think I will be able to.”

Sam sighs and rests his head against his knees again.

“Come on,” Lucifer says. “Let’s get you cleaned up while we can.  Then we can make you comfortable.”

xXx

Sam allows himself to be led to his room. Lucifer walks him to the bedroom and leaves him at the bathroom with a whispered, “When you need me, call.”

Sam turns on the shower and strips off his bloody clothes, tossing them into a corner. He doesn’t want them cleaned; he wants them burned.

He steps under the hot spray, and the water runs pink as the blood is washed off him. He scrubs at his skin, as if by removing the blood he can remove the taint of it, too. He can still feel the blood rushing through his veins, making him feel alive and powerful, but he hates the feeling. He hates his weakness in drinking again. Intellectually, he knows it wasn’t his fault. Famine was on his doorstep. He was doomed from the moment Lucifer decided to raise him, but it still feels like his fault.

When the water runs clear and his skin tingles from where his nails have scraped the skin, Sam steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist. He goes into the bedroom and finds some clean clothes from his duffel. He is dressing for comfort, and he picks out a white tank and sweatshirt with a pair of sweats.

When he’s dressed, he sits on the bed, resting his back against the headboard and drawing his knees up to his chest.

“Lucifer,” he says softly.

Within moments, the fallen angel is there, looking across at him.

“How are you feeling?” he asks gently.

Sam shrugs. “I’m coming down now. I can feel it.”

“How long before...?”

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t know. Last time I was in the panic room, and there’s no way to gauge time in there. It won’t be for a while at least.”

Lucifer nods and sits down on the bed. He twists and crosses his legs in front of him so he is sitting facing Sam. “Is there anything you need?” he asks.

Sam shakes his head. “No, thanks.”

“Nothing to eat?”

“The less I eat now, the less I will lose later,” Sam says tonelessly. “Nausea is a big part of the withdrawal.”

Lucifer’s brow creases. “I wish there was a way to spare you from this.”

“You and me both,” Sam says. Then he shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“You said nausea is a part of it. What else should I expect?”

“Headaches, fever, hallucinations, seizures...” Sam trails off. “Last time, I thought I was being tortured by Alastair.”

Lucifer frowns. “That must have been unpleasant.”

Sam huffs a laugh. “Imagine someone slicing you up and presenting you with your intestines to admire. _That_ is just how unpleasant it can be.”

“I wish there was something I could do to protect you from this.”

“Just don’t let me hurt anyone,” Sam says. “Please. I will probably do and say some shady stuff. Whatever you do, don’t let me call Dean.”

Confusion creases Lucifer’s brow. “You wish for me to keep you from your brother?”

Sam nods firmly. “He doesn’t need to hear it. It’s bad enough that he’s reading about it.”

Lucifer nods. “Ah yes, your friend Chuck. It’s an interesting arrangement you have with him.”

“How did you know?” Sam asks.

“I overheard some chatter,” Lucifer says. “It seems my brother Raphael is assigned to his protection. He is most displeased at the moment.”

Sam chuckles. “I bet he is.”

“Yes, as one of my more infuriating brothers, it amuses me to have him so distressed. It seems you Winchesters have a way with inciting powerful emotions in angels.”

Sam nods. “Yeah, it’s one of our many talents.”

“You are a talented pair,” Lucifer says. “You especially.”

Sam looks up. “Me?”

“Yes, Sam,” Lucifer says patiently. “You do remember exorcising Meg, don’t you?”

Sam nods. “Yeah, I feel like I should probably apologize for that.”

“But you wouldn’t mean it,” Lucifer finishes for him.

Sam shakes his head. “I have wanted to do that for a long time. I owed it to Bobby. I just wish I’d had the juice to kill her.”

They fall into companionable silence for a while, which Sam breaks.

“Where is Famine now? You didn’t tell me how you stopped him.”

Lucifer smiles. “I took a leaf out of the Winchester book and cut off his hand.” He pulls the ring from his pocket and turns it over in his hand. “He is useless to me now, of course, but I think it was worth it.”

“But you won’t have the full set,” Sam says with a smile.

“It’s no matter,” Lucifer says lightly. “He was more trouble than he was worth, and it’s not like he was ever particularly useful.”

“Good to hear,” Sam says, running a hand through his hair.

“Are you okay?” Lucifer asks.

Sam shakes his head. “It’s not withdrawal, not yet anyway. It’s just that I’m coming down from the high, and that’s never a pleasant process.”

“How does it feel?” Lucifer asks.

Sam considers the question for a moment. “Like I’m getting the flu. My stomach is churning and I can feel the tremors coming.”

“Shall we see if there is something I can do to aid that?” Lucifer asks.

“Please,” Sam says.

Lucifer leans forward and touches Sam’s hand gently. Sam feels the warmth rush through him, but there is no relief from the nausea.

Lucifer sits back, looking disappointed.

“It’s okay,” Sam says. “I appreciate you trying. Besides, it’s no more than I deserve. I did this to myself.”

“You didn’t, Sam. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not this time, but I am the one that got myself hooked on the blood in the first place.”

“Why did you?” Lucifer asks.

Sam frowns. “It was Lilith. After Dean died, I focused everything I had on taking her out, but it wasn’t working. I was working with my powers, exorcising demons, but every time the hosts died. Ruby said it was because I was being too slow, they suffered too much. She told me I had to be stronger, faster, if I was ever going to defeat Lilith. She brought me something in a hip flask, telling me it would help.” He pauses for a moment and licks his lips. “You’ve got to understand where my head was at the time. I had buried my brother a couple of months ago, and all I could think of was revenge. So, I took the flask and I drank. I knew the second it touched my tongue what it was, and you’d think that would stop me, but it didn’t. It was like an electric shock. Power raced through me, and I knew it was the only way I was ever going to be strong enough for Lilith.” He rakes a shaky hand through his hair. “I told myself it was all for Dean, but deep down I knew the truth. I was doing it because it made me feel good.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Sam. You’re only human.”

“That’s no excuse for what I did.”

Lucifer sighs. “You refuse to accept comfort, and yet you deserve it. You were weak, Sam. People are weak sometimes. Eve ate the apple, after all.”

Sam nods. “I think I’d like to sleep now, Lucifer. Can you help me?”

Lucifer nods and gets to his feet. Sam curls up on his side, and Lucifer presses his fingertips to Sam’s temple.

Peaceful oblivion washes through Sam, and soon he is fast asleep, oblivious to the fallen angel watching over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the amazing comments! We love you all and want to squish your little cheeks and love you forever.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> AN: Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading.

It starts late the next day. Sam is asleep still, cosseted under Lucifer’s influence, when the shakes start. They wake him, and he looks around the room blearily.

“Lucifer?” he says softly.

“I am here.”

Sam turns and sees Lucifer sitting on the edge of the bed. He is looking at Sam sympathetically.

“It’s starting,” Sam says, the quaver in his voice betraying his fear.

Lucifer nods. “I am here for you, Sam.”

Sam pushes himself to a sitting position and rests back against the headboard. “I can do this,” he whispers to himself.

The tremors rock through him, making the headboard rattle. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s trying to calm himself down, as he knows his anxiety is making it worse, but the fear of what is to come grips him and makes calm seem impossible.

He feels the nausea roll in his stomach, and he jumps from the bed and races into the bathroom. He barely makes it to the toilet before his stomach heaves and he vomits. He clutches the cool porcelain, letting it soothe his overheated skin.

“Can I do anything?” Lucifer asks.

“Water,” Sam croaks.

Lucifer fills a cup at the faucet, and he kneels beside Sam and hands him the glass. He rests his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam feels the cool touch on him, but he doesn’t brush it away. It’s comforting in its coolness; it leaches some of the fever from him. He drinks the glass of water and then almost immediately loses it down the toilet.

Lucifer sighs. “More?”

Sam shakes his head. “No point.”

When he thinks the nausea has passed, he gets to his feet and brushes his teeth to remove the foul taste.

Lucifer watches carefully, as if waiting for something to happen. Sam knows it will. This is all too easy so far; he knows the worst is yet to come.

Sam stumbles back into the bedroom and flops down on the bed. He draws his knees up to his chest. Lucifer sits on the other side of the bed, cross-legged, and clasps his hands in his lap.

Sam lies on the bed, tremors rocking his body, wondering when the worst will come, when it does. One moment he is looking at Lucifer’s profile, the next the fallen angel turns his head and it’s Alastair looking at him.

“Hey, Sammy,” he says in his nasal tone. “You miss me?”

Sam jerks upright and throws himself off the bed. He skitters across the floor, backing himself into a corner with his knees drawn up to his chest.

Alastair pulls a scalpel from his shirt pocket. “Oh the fun we will have,” he says, admiring the blade.

Sam buries his head in his hands and he screams.

xXx

Lucifer steps forward slowly so as not to startle Sam any further. Sam is curled up in the corner whimpering in pain.

“Sam?” Lucifer says, kneeling down beside him. “Sam, can you hear me?”

Sam doesn’t respond. Wherever he is, he’s not in the room with Lucifer. “Whatever you are seeing, Sam, it’s not real.”

Sam’s fists knot in his hair and he cries out. “No! Please, god, no!”

It breaks Lucifer’s heart. He wants to touch Sam, to tell him it’s all okay, but he can’t because it would be a lie. It’s not okay, and it’s all Lucifer’s fault. He brought Famine into being and cursed Sam to this fate.

Sam suddenly pushes himself away from Lucifer and crawls across the floor, trying to get away from the invisible attacker. Lucifer wonders if it’s Alastair again.

If only he was still alive, Lucifer could seek revenge for the pain he’s caused Sam.

xXx

The light assaults Sam eyes, and he cringes back. He pushes himself to his feet, swaying. He needs to get away before Alastair returns. There is a voice coming from behind him, pleading for him to listen, but he can’t. It’s a trick.

He runs for the door and then someone is grabbing him, holding him back. “Easy, Sam,” the voice says. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Dean? Where’s Dean?” Sam cries. “I need Dean!”

He falls to his knees and curls into himself, rocking. “I need my brother.”

The voice sighs and a cool hand brushes over his forehead. He turns into the touch. It’s soothing against the harshness that is assaulting his senses.

Warmth passes through him and his eyes drift closed. He sleeps.

xXx

Lucifer knows his influence won’t keep Sam sleeping for long, but even a moment of peace is a blessing for Sam at the moment.

He looks innocent asleep; it’s something Lucifer has noticed in the nights he has watched Sam sleeping. All the guilt and troubles fade away, and he becomes a child again.

Lucifer reaches out a hand and brushes the hair from Sam’s eyes. He leans into the touch in his sleep, and Lucifer feels a stirring of something in his chest. It’s a warm feeling, completely out of place among the dire nature of the immediate situation. He cannot focus on the feeling for long as Sam’s eyes snap open again and he screams.

It is a scream filled with anguish and desperation, and it hurts Lucifer to hear it. He wishes there was something he could do for Sam, but all he can do is be there physically, and that feels pointless.

He grips Sam’s hand. “I am here, Sam. You are not alone.”

“Dean!” Sam cries.

Lucifer considers fetching Dean for a fraction of a second, to soothe Sam, and then he remembers that Sam made him promise not to let him talk to Dean while he is going through this.

Suddenly, Sam stiffens and looks across the room, as if seeing something other than the blandly decorated wall. His eyes fill with tears and he whispers. “Mom?”

xXx

She is beautiful and ethereal and everything Sam wants to see, but she is not happy. Her mouth is turned down at the corners and there is a crease between her brows.

“Sam,” she says stiffly. “How could you do this?”

Tears fill Sam’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It was Famine.”

“Excuses,” she snaps. “You did this to yourself, and you know it. After all I sacrificed for you, you would defile your body again.”

Sam hides his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“We trusted you, Sam,” she says. “You told Dean you would be strong, but I do not see a strong man in front of me. Do you know what I see? I see a puling child that has destroyed himself and his brother because of his selfishness.”

Sam looks up at her. “I didn’t mean to...”

“I’m talking!” she says viciously. “That’s not all you have done. You have doomed the world because of your idiocy. Lucifer has risen, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, you have bound yourself to him.”

“To save Dean!” he says. “I thought that is what you would want.”

“What I want is a son I can be proud of, not one that falls into Lucifer’s traps.”

“It’s not like that,” Sam says. “He’s not what you think. Not always.”

“All lies,” she spits. “He is the master of lies, and you have fallen into each and every one of them.”

“Lucifer, help me, please,” Sam pleads.

He feels a cool hand at his brow and his mother vanishes.

“Thank you,” he sighs.

xXx

Lucifer can see a sheen of sweat covering Sam’s brow. He places his hand on his forehead, and even before he touches it, he can feel the heat radiate from Sam’s skin. He’s running a fever.

Sam lets out a moan and then pushes himself up to his feet. He staggers his way toward the bathroom, Lucifer on his heels. Sam wavers and then nearly falls, but Lucifer is there to catch him. He slips his arms beneath Sam’s from behind and helps lower him to the floor.

“Easy, Sam,” he says as Sam tenses and collapses against the toilet. Lucifer winces in sympathy as Sam begins to heave in earnest. It’s a painful retching noise broken by Sam’s pained whimpers.

Lucifer reaches for a washcloth and quickly dampens it in the sink. He folds it and places it on the back of Sam’s neck.  He grabs another and dampens it as well. This time he reaches around and wipes Sam’s face.

Sam sinks back against Lucifer and closes his eyes. “I’m dying.”

Lucifer hums, maneuvering Sam so he is pressed up against him, his head resting against his chest. “You're not dying, Sam. I know it seems bad, but you’re doing well.”

“It hurts, Lucifer.”

Lucifer sighs. “I know, and I wish I could take the pain away.”

“Please, Lucifer, let me sleep again. Just for a minute. I can’t keep doing this.”

“It won’t last, Sam.”

“Please.”

Lucifer nods and then brings his hand to Sam’s temple. A moment later, Sam goes lax. Lucifer lifts him into his arms and moves him to the bedroom. He lays him down on the bed and shifts him into what looks like a comfortable position.

Sitting beside Sam, he lays a hand on his forehead to hope to ease the burn of the fever coursing through Sam.

xXx

When Sam’s eyes open, he is looking up into a smiling face. It’s not a friendly face, not Dean or Bobby or even Castiel. It’s Ruby’s face, and she looks delighted to see Sam again.

“Sam,” she says happily. “It’s been too long.”

Sam tries to flinch away from her, but he finds that he is pinned in place. Leather restraints encircle his wrists and ankles, and he is lying spread-eagled on some hard surface.

She draws a knife from behind her, and Sam recognizes it at once. It’s the demon blade.

“You see this,” she says. “Your brother slid this knife into me, killing me dead. Remember that, Sam?”

Sam stares at her, his eyes wide with terror.

“I asked you a question!” she snaps, striking him across the cheek.

“I remember,” Sam says.

“Good. Now, I am going to take this blade, and I am going to show you _exactly_ how it feels. How do you think it will react to all that demon blood rushing through your veins, Sammy? Shall we find out?”

She plunges the knife into Sam’s thigh, and he cries out in pain.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she says, twisting the blade. “I remember, too.”

She rips the knife out of his flesh, and he can feel the blood soaking the leg of his sweats.

She taps the blade against her chin. “Now, that wasn’t a very successful experiment. I wasn’t looking carefully. I need a broader canvas.”

She slices away his sweatshirt and the tank underneath so his chest is laid bare to the cool air.

“This will do.”

She doesn’t plunge the knife in this time. She rests the tip of the blade above his nipple and leans on it slightly, just breaking the skin. She drags it across him, creating swirling patterns in his flesh.

Sam cries out in pain, and he pleads for her to stop, but she doesn’t. He feels the blood pooling around him, sticky and warm, and still she slices at him. Looking down his chest he can see only red as she parts flesh in her own demented stylings.

“Anything to say now, Sam?” she asks. “Do you want to apologize, perhaps?”

Sam grits his teeth. “Yeah, I’m sorry, sorry I didn’t get to kill you myself.”

With a shriek of rage, she plunges the knife into his chest, driving it straight through his heart.

xXx

Lucifer kneels down beside Sam, who is curled on the floor, clutching at his chest. He can see from the pallor of his skin and the sweat beading on his forehead that he’s not doing well. He’s just spent the last five minutes screaming in agony, and there was nothing Lucifer could do to comfort him.

Sam begins to gag and choke, and Lucifer quickly slips a hand under his head, cradling it. “Breathe, Sam,” Lucifer commands. And then he does. It’s slow and hitching but he breathes.

“That’s it,” Lucifer says. “Nice and slow. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Sam seems to calm, and then his eyes flutter open. “Lucifer?”

Lucifer nods. “Let’s get you back to the bed, okay?”

Sam looks around, looking surprised to be on the floor. “When did...” Sam’s brow creases in confusion as he pushes himself up.

“Shhh,” Lucifer says. “Rest, Sam. Let me carry you.”

Lucifer reaches down and slips his arms beneath Sam, lifting him from the floor. Sam turns into his touch and rests his head against Lucifer’s shoulder.

Lucifer places him gently on the bed.

“I don’t think I can do this, Lucifer,” Sam says.

Lucifer brushes the sweat-dampened hair from Sam’s eyes. “You can and you are.”

“Can’t you just kill me?”

Lucifer is stunned by the question. Killing Sam is the furthest thing from his mind. “Of all the things I could do for you, you ask the one thing I cannot.”

“Because I’m your vessel?” Sam asks.

“No, Sam, because you are you.”

Lucifer lays a hand on Sam’s brow and sends him to sleep again for a minute of peace.

Sam rests for only a moment before his arms flail out from at his sides and his whole body begins to shake. His head is tilted back and his arms are curled in at his sides. Every muscle in his body seems to be contracting. Lucifer has never seen anything like it, not in all his years of Hell.

Sam’s breath comes in a rasp, and Lucifer crouches on the bed beside him.

“Sam, it’s okay. Relax for me, please,” he pleads, but Sam either cannot hear him or he is unable to obey. He continues to shudder and shake. Lucifer presses his hand against Sam’s temple and tries to send him to sleep again, but it doesn’t work.

Lucifer sees blood drip down from Sam’s clenched fists, and he struggles to uncurl Sam’s fingers. When he does, he sees that Sam’s fingernails have cut into his palm. He is able to heal the wounds at once, but it’s the reason behind them that worries Lucifer. He doesn’t understand what’s happening.

Strangely, it is Nick’s dormant mind that presents the answer as Lucifer searches the memories. A seizure. Sam is having a seizure. Nick’s mind tells him that he needs to allow Sam to ride it out, but that doesn’t help Lucifer deal with it any easier.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Sam’s body relaxes and his breaths come easier again. His eyes stay closed though, and he doesn’t respond to Lucifer’s voice calling to him. He looks more comfortable than he has been since the withdrawal started, though. So Lucifer merely rests a hand on his side and watches the rise and fall of Sam’s chest as he breathes. It has suddenly become vitally important to Lucifer that that motion continues.

Sam stirs, and Lucifer knows some new horror is coming for Sam to bear, so he does the only thing he can think to do, which is to take Sam’s hand in his own and wait for the nightmare to pass.

 xXx

The first thing Sam sees as he opens his eyes and looks around the room is Dean. He is sitting on the edge of the bed looking across at Sam.

Sam is so relieved to see his brother again that he doesn’t notice Dean’s scowl at first.

“Dean, man, it’s so good to see you. How did you get here? Where’s Lucifer?”

Dean scowls. “I can’t say the same about seeing you. You look like shit.”

Sam runs a hand through his hair and tries to straighten his shirt. “Sorry, it’s just been rough day.”

Dean laughs. “You were always so pathetic. Look at you. You’re such a waste.”

Sam recoils like the words have physically hurt him. “Why are you saying this?”

Dean gets to his feet and paces the length of the room. “Because it’s true, Sam, and I’m sick of pretending otherwise. I mean just look at what you’ve been doing lately.”

“What have I done?”

“You think we don’t know? Chuck has seen it all. You and the Devil cozying it up in the diner, hanging onto his every word. What were you thinking, Sam?”

“I did what I had to do,” Sam says defensively.

“Yeah, what you had to do was give us actual helpful information. You had Famine here in the hotel, and you didn’t raise a finger against him.”

“I couldn’t help it. It was the blood.”

“Yes, the filthy demon blood that runs through your veins. As if it wasn’t bad enough what yellow-eyes turned you into, you had to make it worse by sucking down the damn stuff. Making yourself even more of a freak than you already were.”

 Sam curls in on himself. It’s everything he has ever feared Dean to be thinking.

“I could never love someone as filthy as you. Monster, Sam. You're a monster.”

“Dean, no.”

“And I tried so hard to pretend that we were brothers. That you weren't one of the filthy things that we hunt. But we're not even the same species. You're nothing to me.”

“Don't say that to me. Don't you say that to me.”

Dean raises his hand and Sam sees the glint of the light on the demon blade. Dean smiles. “Yeah, you see it, don’t you, Sam. A demon blade to kill a demon child.”

“No!” Sam pleads. “Please don’t!”

Dean steps forward and reaches for Sam. He grips Sam’s hair and yanks his head back. Resting the knife directly over Sam’s throat, he presses down.

“Goodbye, Sam.”

Sam feels the blade cut through his flesh and muscle, and blood pours from the wound, soaking his shirt. He chokes and gasps, trying to draw breath, inhaling blood into his lungs.

xXx

Lucifer does his best to help Sam, but he is helpless himself. He has never dealt with seizures before this day and now Sam was having his second.

Lucifer watches as Sam chokes. He lifts Sam’s head and tries to cradle it. A whisper in the back of his mind, maybe Nick, tells him to roll Sam to his side, and he does. Sam’s muscles kick and flex again. Then he goes still.

His chest rises and falls and Lucifer nearly cries in relief. It’s true that he can bring him back, but he doesn’t want Sam to experience heaven only to have it ripped away.

Lucifer can hear the wheezing sound in Sam’s chest and he places a hand on Sam’s arm, letting his grace heal him.

Lucifer takes the ice bucket from the counter and fills it with warm water from the bathroom. Taking a washcloth, he proceeds to clean Sam’s exposed skin. Running the washcloth over him and whispering reassurances Sam can’t hear. There is no knowing how long this reprieve will last before Sam is calling out to invisible assailants again, but he is going to take advantage of the time to give Sam a little comfort while he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the amazing feedback. We just want to hug you and squish you and keep you forever. Yep, we're a bit crazy. Thanks so much and chapters will be coming daily from here on out.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading.

There is a fresh stack of papers beside the printer when Dean gets downstairs the next morning.

“No Chuck?” Dean asks the room at large.

“He went into the town to buy groceries,” Castiel says. “He said for us to start reading without him.”

Dean shrugs and fills a mug with coffee. Sitting on a chair opposite Bobby’s desk, and resting his ankle on his knee, he sits back and starts to read.

He is amused that Sam wakes with hangover, he thinks he deserves it after the way he spent the last two weeks, but he’s pleased that Lucifer doesn’t leave him to suffer long. He likes the idea of seeing the waitress flirt with Lucifer, too, and when Sam and Lucifer pass the demon Sam’d had a run in with on the stairs, Dean laughs. The light mood doesn’t last long though.

_“Sam takes a deep breath of fresh, clean air as they step out onto the street. It feels good to be outside again. Now, in the sober light of day. Sam is able to see just how far he let himself fall in the last two weeks. He thinks of Dean and wonders how he reacted to seeing Sam in such a mess. Was he angry as Sam blotted out days in a haze of alcohol, or did he understand Sam’s weakness?”_

Bobby looks up at Dean. “So, do you blame him?”

Dean rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I can understand how he got in such a state, but I wish he hadn’t done it. Sam’s better than that.”

Bobby nods thoughtfully but doesn’t comment.

Dean is surprised that Lucifer accepts the example of the elderly couple as a good side of humanity. He notes the ease with which Sam and Lucifer are talking, and it bothers him. To an outsider, Sam and Lucifer could just be a pair of buddies enjoying breakfast together. Dean thinks Sam is relaxing his guard too much around the Devil, and he wishes he could talk to him again to get a read on what he’s thinking.

All of their attention sharpens when Lucifer mentions horsemen, and Dean skims down the page quickly eager to know more about Lucifer’s plans.

_“When they are back in the hotel, Sam sits on the bed, resting his back against the headboard, and Lucifer perches on the edge of the computer desk. ‘So,’ Sam says. ‘What’s up?’ ‘Famine,’ Lucifer says. Sam smiles. ‘I would have thought running out of food would be the least of your worries.’ Lucifer frowns. ‘Okay, I was kidding. What’s Famine done wrong?’ ‘He is a posturing pest,’ Lucifer says, waving his hand in the air. ‘I have never known anyone like him, and you should have met my brother Gabriel.’ Sam chuckles. It’s so bizarre to think of Lucifer as having brothers. Though he knows Lucifer once had a family, brothers like him, it doesn’t fit Sam’s image of him. ‘Really, you should,’ Lucifer says. ‘You have never met anyone like him.’”_

Dean looks up from the papers and exchanges a glance with Bobby. “Am I the only one that’s thinking there is something off here?” he asks.

“What is troubling you?” Castiel asks.

“They talking like they’re buddies,” Dean says. “Sam is acting like he does with us. He’s relaxed.”

“Would you rather he was tense?” Castiel asks, his brow creased with confusion.

“I’d rather he was on his guard.”

“Maybe it’s an act,” Bobby says. “He’s surprised us so far with how smart he’s been—two week bender notwithstanding—maybe he’s playing the part of Lucifer’s friend to get information for us.”

“Maybe,” Dean says doubtfully.

He reads on and Bobby’s theory is blown out of the water. Dean’s hands tighten on the pages as he takes in what he is reading.

_“Lucifer frowns. ‘I know what you are doing, Sam. I know you are attempting to work against me. Nothing I can tell you of Famine will aid you in my defeat,’ Sam is stunned. He hadn’t been thinking about defeating Lucifer at all when he initiated the conversation. He just wanted to know who or what was powerful enough to irk Lucifer. He should have been thinking of defeating him, though. And he’s angry with himself for letting that fall by the wayside. He thinks of Dean and Bobby, and he feels a pang of guilt. They are fighting while he’s laughing it up with Lucifer. What was he thinking?”_

Dean looks up from the pages. “That’s a damn good question. What _is_ he thinking?”

Bobby’s hands rest on his knees. He looks deep in thought. “Maybe we’re asking too much of him.”

“I’m not asking anything of him other than he remember who and what he is with. Sam’s acting like he’s on a damn vacation with a buddy, not undercover with the Devil.”

“That’s the thing,” Bobby says, scrubbing a hand through his beard. “He’s not undercover. That makes it sound like he has a choice, when he doesn’t. Sam is a prisoner, and”—He looks Dean in the eye—”he’s a prisoner because he’s trying to protect you.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean snaps. He is more than aware that Sam is only with the Devil to protect him. Through his imprisonment he has gained protection for Bobby and Castiel, too, but it was for Dean he did it in the first place. That’s what they do for each other.

“Ignoring the fact Sam in holed up with the Devil, the Prince of Lies, you’ve got to look at it like any other hostage situation. You spend too long with your captor and sooner or later you sympathize with them. It’s Stockholm syndrome.”

“Yeah, but it’s Sam,” Dean says.

“Exactly,” Bobby says. “It’s Sam. The guy that believes in second chances and giving people the benefit of the doubt. Dammit, just reading some of these pages makes me wonder if Lucifer is really a bad as he seems, and that’s just reading. Imagine what it’s like for Sam to be living it.”

“Lucifer is compelling,” Castiel says thoughtfully.

Dean tosses the pages down on the desk. “I'll be damned if I’m letting my brother fall under Lucifer’s spell.”

“Well what are you going to do about it?” Bobby asks. “You got some great plan for a rescue batting around in your brain? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t.”

“It’s quite impossible,” Castiel says. “Even if we find where Lucifer is keeping him, any attempt to extract him would end in our death.”

Dean’s hands fist. “This is bullshit.”

“Agreed,” Bobby says. “Now you wanna calm down and read some more or do you want to take your temper out on another junker.”

Dean feels like he is being chided for acting like a child, which is unfair. He’s in an impossible situation, and he’s doing his best. A lot like Sam... The thought works like a bucket of water over his anger. Sam is in a much worse situation than him, and he is doing his best. If treating the Devil like a friend is how he chooses to manage it, then that’s down to him. Dean has no choice but to accept that.

_“‘You’re upset,’ Lucifer states. ‘Why?’ ‘Would you believe that I wasn’t thinking of your defeat when I asked?’ Lucifer nods. ‘If you tell me you weren’t, I will believe you. Is that what’s upset you, that I misunderstood?’ Sam shakes his head. ‘No. I’m angry with myself because, for a moment, I forgot.’ Lucifer looks at him sympathetically. ‘I understand. It must be hard for you to see me as a threat all the time while you are forced to see that I am not the monster I am portrayed as.’ He pauses. ‘How can I help you?’ Sam shrugs. ‘There’s nothing you can do. It’s all on me.’”_

 That’s precisely the problem, Dean thinks. Too much is on Sam.

He reads on, and is horrified to learn that Lucifer is taking souls from people to sustain a horseman to complete a set. He doesn’t understand the mentality behind thinking like that. Lucifer is like a child wanting the full set of baseball cards, even if he has to kick a few kids to get them.

He is almost relieved when Meg arrives and interrupts them. He isn’t sure he wants to hear more.

_“What he wants more than anything is to be able to talk to Dean. He feels like he’s slipping, and he needs his brother to ground him again. He knows Dean is watching him through Chuck, and he would have seen the conversation between Sam and Lucifer. Dean will know Sam wasn’t thinking of the hunt when he questioned Lucifer about Famine. He must be so disappointed in Sam right now. Sam wishes there was a way to make him understand how confusing it is to be this close to the fallen angel and remember who he really is.”_

“See?” Bobby says. “He’s doing his best.”

“I see, Bobby,” Dean says quietly. Like Sam he wishes more than anything that he could talk to his brother.

Dean is about to read on when there is a commotion at the door. Chuck comes in, weighed down with grocery bags. He sets them on the kitchen counters and peers into the study.

“Oh, you’re still reading, huh... I’ll just put this stuff away. I don’t know about you guys but I can’t survive on whiskey and coffee for long, and I...”

“What’s up with you?” Dean asks. “You’re more twitchy than normal.”

“Me?” Chuck laughs nervously. “I’m fine. Just out of curiosity, how far have you got in the pages?”

“Meg just came and got Lucifer,” Dean says.

“Oh...” Chuck fumbles with one of the bags, taking out items and setting them on the counter. He slaps his forehead. “You know what I forgot? I forgot cheese. I better go and get some.” He turns to leave, but Dean jumps up and blocks the door.

“What’s going on?” Dean asks.

“Really, nothing, it’s just... um...” Chuck tugs at his collar. “Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here. I’m just gonna step outside for a moment.”

“Chuck,” Dean says in a warning tone.

“Just read it,” Bobby says. “I have a feeling whatever has Chuck acting like a squirrel on crack is in those pages.”

Dean picks up the papers and reads. _“Sam gets up from the desk and paces the small room. He licks his lips as his mouth begins to salivate. There is something wrong with him. He feels off, almost unwell. He presses a finger to his throat and he feels his pulse racing through his veins. He is about to call to Lucifer, when the sound reaches him. It’s a steady thudding, but it’s not the sound of his own heart he can hear beating in his chest, it’s someone else’s._ ”

“What the hell is going on?” Bobby asks.

Dean is scared he already knows the answer. He looks to Chuck. “It’s the blood again, isn’t it?”

Chuck nods. “I’m sorry.”

“Sam is craving demon blood again,” Castiel states, sounding disappointed.

Chuck rubs at the back  of neck, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, Famine decided to pay a visit to Lucifer, and he has affected Sam.”

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. This is too much. He doesn’t want to read more, but he knows he has to. He has to suffer through this for his brother.

_“The door clicks open, and Meg sticks her head around again. ‘Sorry to disturb’_ _—the scathing tone she uses obliviates any effect of her polite words_ _—’but Lucifer asked me to tell you he’s going to be delayed in returning to you and he apologizes.’ ‘I need to see him,’ Sam says hoarsely. ‘Well, tough luck, Winchester,’ she says. ‘Because he’s busy with people that actually matter.’ Sam feels the tremors starting in his hands, and he hugs his arms around himself. It’s coming. and it’s coming on strong. He feels the need burning in him. He hasn’t felt it this bad since those wretched days in the panic room.”_

Dean and Bobby exchange a look. They are both remembering those days, too, remembering how it felt to hear Sam’s screams of pain and howls of anguish.

Dean reads through gritted teeth as Meg taunts Sam, and he wishes more than anything that he could kill her. As soon as Lucifer is defeated, she is going to be next on the must die list.

_“‘I will send them away,’ Lucifer says at once. ‘Can you hold it together a little longer? I must send Famine away. Perhaps if he is not so close, the need won’t be as great.’ Sam nods jerkily, still hugging his arms around himself. ‘I can try.’ Lucifer reaches out as if to touch him, and then he pulls back his hand. ‘Stay strong, Sam.’ He leaves the room and Sam drops down into his knees. ‘Stay strong, Sam.’ It was exactly what Dean would say if he was there, and Sam has never needed his brother more. He needs Dean to hold him back and take care of him like he always does, as he can feel himself slipping.”_

Dean can’t read anymore. He needs to be there, He needs to help Sam. He drops the pages down on the desk and paces up and down the length of the room.

“Dean,” Bobby says gently.

“What?” Dean snaps. “You going to tell me everything’s okay? That he’s fine?”

“Of course not,” Bobby says. “I’m not going to lie to you. We both know he’s not fine, but beating yourself up isn’t going to help anyone.”

“I need to be there,” Dean says. “I have to help him.”

“Technically, it isn’t happening yet,” Chuck says, checking his watch. “They’re probably still at the diner at the moment.”

Dean glares at him and Chuck backs away until he is leaning against the counter. He puts his hands up in surrender. “Sorry.”

“Is he going to drink it?” Dean asks.

Chuck nods. “I’m afraid so.”

Dean covers his eyes with his hands and digs his fingertips deep into his temples. He knows what will happen now, Sam will have to go through withdrawal again, and he barely made it through alive last time.

“Would you like me to read?” Castiel asks, picking up the pages from the desk.

Dean is torn, he can’t bear to read the pages himself, but he needs to know what’s happening to his brother. He can’t hide from this, not when his brother is suffering.

It turns out it is harder to listen than to read. Even though Castiel’s tone is not inflected with emotion, the words tear at Dean.

_“He can hear the footsteps moving up and down the hall, and he knows that they’re demons moving around out there. Demons that are walking up and down with their veins pulsing with the nectar that is demon blood. Nectar... there is no other word for it, the way it tastes and the way it makes him feel... ‘Dean,’ he moans. ‘I need you.’ He knows Dean can’t hear him, but he needs to say it. Just saying his brother’s name gives him strength. He mumbles it as a litany as he bows his head down so his forehead is touching the floor.”_

Dean falls into a chair and bows at the waist, fisting his hands in his hair. It’s physically painful for him to hear his brother’s suffering and not to be able to do anything about it.

_“Then it happens. It’s too much. The wave of desire that rips through him is too much to handle. Famine is affecting him more than ever before, and he finds himself on his feet. He crosses the room and roots through his duffel. Pulling out the knife, he stares at its clean edge. ‘I’m sorry, Dean,’ he says to the empty room, and then he forces all thought of his brother from his mind and focuses on getting what he needs.”_

“You don’t have to be sorry, Sam,” Dean says. “Jesus, Sammy, that’s the last thing you need to be.” Dean runs a hand through his hair. “Go on, Cas. Keep reading.”

Castiel nods _. “The hall has fallen silent now, there is no movement, but Sam doesn’t need it. He can hear the pounding hearts behind the closed doors, and he selects one where there is only one demon inside. He doesn’t want to have to fight too hard. He wants the blood now. Once he is strengthened, he can pin the others in place as he feeds. It will be so easy.”_

“I’ll be damned,” Bobby says. “He’s thinking just like a hunter.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “You’re impressed by this?”

“Don’t be stupid. I’m just stating facts here. He’s playing it smart.”

Dean sighs and gestures for Castiel to continue.

_“The door clicks open and he sees a short demon sitting on the edge of the bed. Casa Erotica is playing on the television, and the demon looks up and starts as Sam enters. ‘What do you want?’ it asks. ‘You,’ Sam says simply and lunges forward with the knife held aloft. Sam shouldn’t be able to overpower the demon so easily, but Lucifer’s orders are like a gag on the demon’s strength. Instead of fighting back, he calls out for help. The knife cuts through the air and finds its mark on the demon’s neck. It slices through the skin and warm, pulsating blood follows. The first mouthful is exquisite.”_

Dean shudders. “He’s like a goddamned vampire.”

Castiel nods. “It is quite chilling to read.”

“Try seeing it all play out in surround sound high definition,” Chuck says.

“You’re all halfwits,” Bobby says in a bored tone. “He’s drinking demon blood, what do you expect it to sound like?”

Castiel continues. _“It fills Sam’s mouth and flows down his throat. The rich taste of it brings Sam’s taste buds to life, and he groans his satisfaction. Then comes the rush. The heady feeling of contentment and power that nothing on earth can compare to. Sam is invincible. He is fed. He is sated.”_

Castiel looks up as he reaches the end of the page. “There is no more.”

Chuck looks awkward. “I didn’t know if you would want to know more.”

Dean nods. “I have to know it all.”

Chuck nods and shifts some papers by the computer, taking out a stack. He holds them out to Dean. Dean takes them and reads the first line and then he falters. He can’t bring himself to read it aloud.

“Cas, do you mind?” he asks.

“I am happy to be of help,” Castiel says, taking the pages and clearing his throat.

_“Sam is kneeling on the floor, bowed over a demon. The demon is struggling, but Sam’s strength overpowers him. Sam’s mouth is pressed against a wound on the demon’s throat, and he is sucking at the blood and gulping it down. ‘Sam,’ Lucifer says in a sigh. Sam raises his head, and Lucifer sees the blood smeared around his face. ‘Mine,’ he says in a growl.”_

Dean thinks that his brother sounds almost primal in the way he claims his victim. The demon blood drags Sam down to his base instincts like an animal.

_“There is movement at the door, and Sam stiffens. Meg is standing there, looking in. ‘Do you need help?’ she asks. Lucifer shakes his head. ‘No, we will be—’ It’s too late; Sam is already in action. Fixing his eyes on Meg, he raises a hand and his face contorts with effort.”_

“Awww, man,” Dean says. “He’s not only sucking down the stuff, he’s using the powers, too.”

Bobby shrugs. “At least he’s using them on that bitch Meg. I’m not complaining.”

Castiel clears his throat and continues to read down the page. _“‘Lucifer!’ Meg says desperately, wanting assistance. Lucifer merely watches as Sam’s features twist and he fists a hand. Black smoke pours from Meg’s mouth. The human Meg was possessing falls to the ground as the last of Meg leaves her. She is dead. Sam looks satisfied. ‘I have wanted to do that for so long.’”_

Dean sighs and rubs at the back of his neck.

“What are you thinking, Dean?”

Dean looks up at Bobby. “That he’s all alone in this damned mess and there’s nothing we can do to help him.”

“He’s got Lucifer,” Chuck says.

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “Which is worse than being alone.”

“He may surprise you,” Chuck says in return.

“Keep reading, Cas,” Bobby says. “The sooner we get through this, the better.”

Castiel reads as Lucifer leads Sam to another room in the motel, and presents him with the jugs of blood.

“He’s giving him more!” Dean says in a horrified tone. “What the hell?”

“From an outsider point of view, he is doing the right thing,” Castiel says dryly. “He’s giving Sam what he needs in that moment. You must remember that Famine is still there, affecting Sam.”

“But it’s going to make it all so much harder later,” Dean says.

“Lucifer doesn’t know that,” Castiel says. “He is merely reacting to the immediate problem. Sam says he needs more, therefore Lucifer provides.”

Dean huffs. “Did I ever mention how much I hate angel logic?”

Castiel’s brow furrows with confusion. “Would you rather I was illogical?”

Dean shakes his head. Not for the first time, Castiel has missed the point completely.

Castiel rustles the pages and continues down the page. _“As Sam drains the last jug, he turns to Lucifer. His eyes have lost their unnatural brightness, and now he looks scared. ‘Lucifer, help me,’ he pleads. ‘I can’t... I can’t do this.’ Lucifer steps forward and places a hand on Sam’s arm. ‘What do you need?’ ‘More blood,’ Sam says at once and then shakes his head. ‘No, I can’t... I need you to make it stop. He has to stop affecting me. I’m losing myself.’”_

Dean looks away from Castiel and stares determinedly out of the window. He doesn’t want to hear this, but he can’t stop listening. It’s all the worse because he knows the worst is yet to come. Most frustrating of all is that for Sam, none of this has happened yet. They have all the information to stop it ever happening—Lucifer needs to stop Famine before he reaches the hotel—but no way of sharing it.

Castiel reads, and they hear how Lucifer races from the room, leaving Sam alone. Dean can only hope that he has left go deal with Famine. It looks like he did, as the next moment Sam feels the hunger leave his body. He falls to the floor and makes himself as small as he can as he waits for Lucifer to come back.

_“‘Are you okay, Sam?’ Lucifer asks softly. Sam shakes his head but doesn’t look up. Lucifer kneels beside him and lays a hand on Sam’s shoulder. ‘What can I do?’ ‘I need Dean,’ Sam says plaintively. ‘Please let me call Dean.’”_

Dean looks to Chuck. “Is he going to let him?”

Chuck nods. “I haven’t written it out, I thought you would prefer to have the conversation in private, but he will call you some time later this afternoon.”

Dean exhales in a shaky gust. He’s going to be able to speak to his brother. He has never needed a phone call more. He doesn’t know what he will say to him, he’s never been good with words, but he figures Sam will take the lead.

Castiel turns over the page to read more, but Dean holds out his hand. “I can take it now, Cas.”

Castiel hands over the pages and Dean begins to read. He skims through Sam’s shower and the conversation between Sam and Lucifer until Sam begins to explain the withdrawal.

_“‘Headaches, fever, hallucinations, seizures...’ Sam trails off. ‘Last time, I thought I was being tortured by Alastair.’”_

Dean gapes at the pages in his hands. He had no idea that Sam had gone through that. He never imagined the withdrawal would do that to him. Twisting the knife in a little deeper, he reads on.

_“‘Imagine someone slicing you up and presenting you with your intestines to admire. That is just how unpleasant it can be.’”_

Dean shudders. He knows how that feels as he has both experienced and executed it. He feels nauseated. He never imagined he had these experiences in common with his brother.

“You okay, Son?” Bobby asks.

Dean nods and clears his throat. Reading on he is confused that Sam asks Lucifer not to let him call again. He says he will say and do shady stuff. Dean doesn’t know what he means, but he trusts Sam. If he says it’s bad idea to talk, it’s better that they don’t.

He reads on and raises an eyebrow when Chuck is mentioned.

“Lucifer knows about you?” Dean asks Chuck.

“He is an archangel, fallen or not,” Castiel says. “He knows and sees everything the other angels see.”

Chuck laughs nervously. “It’s a little weird for me. I’m a writer. We’re used to working in the background. Suddenly, Lucifer knows my name.” He looks thoughtful. “I might have to start medicating myself if this goes on much longer.”

“Do what the rest of us do and shove down all that shit with a bottle of whiskey,” Dean says.

Chuck nods. “Good advice.”

Dean reads on, as they discuss Sam killing Meg. He looks up at Bobby to catch the older hunter’s reaction to what Sam says. _‘“I have wanted to do that for a long time. I owed it to Bobby. I just wish I’d had the juice to kill her.”’_

Something clicks in Dean’s mind. He had wondered when Sam showed no remorse for what he had done—killing the woman when he exorcised Meg—but now it makes sense. Sam thought the ends justified the means as he had been avenging Bobby.

Bobby nods. He doesn’t comment, but Dean knows he is touched by what Sam said.

_“‘Where is Famine now? You didn’t tell me how you stopped him.’ Lucifer smiles. ‘I took a leaf out of the Winchester book and cut off his hand.’ He pulls the ring from his pocket and turns it over in his hand. ‘He is useless to me now, of course, but I think it was worth it.’”_

Bobby raises an eyebrow. “The Devil took out a horseman for Sam.”

Dean nods. “I guess he did.” He looks to Chuck for an explanation and Chuck sighs.

“I know you hate me saying it, but Sam _is_ special.”

“What does that even mean?” Dean asks brutally.

Chuck raises his hands. “You’re reading the pages I am writing. Why can’t you see it, too?”

“All I see is a fallen archangel manipulating my brother into a yes. That’s all.”

“Then there’s no point me trying to show you different,” Chuck says, glowering in a rare show of annoyance.

“How’s about we finish these pages,” Bobby says, breaking the tense silence of the room.

Dean reads on. He’s disappointed that Lucifer isn’t even able to spare Sam the lighter symptoms of coming down from the blood. If he can’t do that, he will be next to useless when it really matters. Dean wonders how Lucifer is going to manage Sam’s withdrawal. It’s not like the hotel has a panic room. How will the Devil react when Sam is calling out for help, knowing there is nothing he can do.

His interest increases when Sam explains how he first became addicted to the blood. It’s a conversation they have never had before.

_‘It was Lilith. After Dean died, I focused everything I had on taking her out, but it wasn’t working. I was working with my powers, exorcising demons, but every time the hosts died. Ruby said it was because I was being too slow, they suffered too much. She told me I had to be stronger, faster, if I was ever going to defeat Lilith.’”_

Castiel nods. “His powers were incredible, but they were too taxing on the human vessels. He must have killed many as he trained himself.”

“Don’t really want to think about that right now, Cas,” Dean says.

“Then I apologize.”

Dean shrugs and keeps reading. “‘ _She brought me something in a hip flask, telling me it would help.’ He pauses for a moment and licks his lips. ‘You’ve got to understand where my head was at the time. I had buried my brother a couple of months ago, and all I could think of was revenge. So, I took the flask and I drank. I knew the second it touched my tongue what it was, and you’d think that would stop me, but it didn’t. It was like an electric shock. Power raced through me, and I knew it was the only way I was ever going to be strong enough for Lilith.’ He rakes a shaky hand through his hair. ‘I told myself it was all for Dean, but deep down I knew the truth. I was doing it because it made me feel good.’”_

Dean doesn’t understand why he’s had never had this conversation with his brother. Perhaps because he assumed Sam would make excuses for what he had done. But he wasn’t now. He was being completely honest with Lucifer, telling him exactly what he’d done and why.

He reads Lucifer’s reassurances and Sam’s rebuttals. It’s so infuriatingly like Sam to not accept the liferaft of comfort when it’s offered.

When Sam asks Lucifer to help him sleep, Dean is relieved. He doesn’t want to read more.

He drops the pages down on the desk and rubs at his tired eyes. “Is that it, Chuck?”

Chuck nods. “That’s it for today. Sam is going to sleep for the rest of the day, and as for tomorrow... I don’t know what’s going to happen yet.”

xXx

Chuck makes them lunch out of the groceries he bought, and they sit out on the back porch to eat. Castiel goes, using the time without reading to continue his search for his errant father. When they are done eating, Dean grabs the toolkit out of the back of the Impala and sets to work on one of the junkers in the yard.

It’s easy, thoughtless work, and it allows his mind to wander to his brother. The phone sits on top of the toolkit, and Dean’s eyes drift to it every so often waiting for it to ring. He’s deep in the engine of a broken down old Ford when it happens.

His head snaps up and he cracks it against the hood of the car. Cursing under his breath, he snatches up the phone.

“Sam?”

He hears Sam draw an uneven breath. “Dean... I’m sorry.”

Just like that, any lingering anger he felt towards his brother for what had happened in the past few days disappears, and he is the big brother again, needing to comfort the younger.

“Jesus, Sam, don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

“I tried, man. I really tried.” Sam sounds near tears.

“I know, buddy. Just take it easy,” Dean says. “Things are going to get worse before they get better.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Dean curses them. Why did he have to say that? Like Sam didn’t already know he was facing a literal hell in the next couple of days.

“I don’t think I can do that again,” Sam says desperately.

“As much as I hate to say it, Lucifer is there with you. Let him help you. I know you can do it. I know you’re stronger than you think.” Dean does hate to say it. He doesn’t want Sam to have to depend on Lucifer for anything, let alone support through this, but he doesn’t have a lot of options. Both Dean and Sam are relying on the Devil now to do the right thing.

Dean hears Lucifer murmuring in the background. “I will help you.”

“I’m scared, Dean,” Sam says. “I’m scared of what I’ll see.”

Dean is scared of what he’ll see, too. If he thought he was about to be faced with Alastair again, he would be a wreck. Sam is holding it together better than he ever could.

“Just remember it’s not real, Sam. Whatever you see, it’s not real. It’s going to be okay.”

“I wish you were here.”

Dean wishes that, too, so much. He wishes he could see his brother through this, as for all Lucifer’s words, he’s not going to be able to help Sam worth a damn. Dean hadn’t been able to.

“You can do this, Sammy,” he says. “Just hang on a little longer, okay? If I could be there, I would.”

“I know.” Sam sighs. “I can do this.”

“That’s right, Sam,” Dean says firmly. “You can and you will. I have faith in you.”

Dean hears a rustling in the call and he’s about to ask what’s happening when he hears a voice he has never heard before, but would know anywhere. Only the Devil could sound so gentle but be so cruel.

“Dean.”

“Lucifer.” It’s all he can do to speak the Devil’s name without cussing him out. He’s having a conversation with the creature that has kidnapped his brother and created this nightmare.

“I know you have a low opinion of me, but trust me when I say I will do all I can to see Sam through this.”

“I don’t have any other choice, do I? You’re all Sam’s got.”

“I will take care of him, Dean.”

Dean opens his mouth to speak, not knowing what to say, before he realizes the phone has gone dead in his hand. The Devil hung up on him.

He drops the phone down on into the toolkit and kicks at the tire of the car.

“Dammit!”

xXx

No one is speaking in the study the next morning. The only sounds are Chuck’s fingers hammering at the keys. When he pushes back from the table and the printer starts spewing out pages, Dean speaks.

“It starts today, right?”

Chuck nods.

“Any chance it ends today, too?” Bobby asks hopefully.

Chuck shrugs. “I don’t know. I wrote everything I saw, but there is no knowing what will happen tomorrow. Sam wasn’t lucid at the end.”

Dean rakes a hand through his hair. The last time Sam was well into his second day of withdrawal when he broke out of the panic room. There is no knowing how long a withdrawal can really take.

Dean picks up the pages at the printer and stares at them. Enclosed in that black print is the true horrors of Sam’s withdrawal, and he’s not sure he has the strength to read it.

“Would you like me to read?” Castiel offers.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, I got this.” He takes a deep breath and begins to read.

_“It starts late the next day. Sam is asleep still, cosseted under Lucifer’s influence, when the shakes start. They wake him, and he looks around the room blearily. ‘Lucifer?’ he says softly. ‘I am here.’ Sam turns and sees Lucifer sitting on the edge of the bed. He is looking at Sam sympathetically. ‘It’s starting,’ Sam says, the quaver in his voice betraying his fear. Lucifer nods. ‘I am here for you, Sam.’”_

Dean is initially confused. It doesn’t sound like Lucifer has prepared the room at all for what’s to come. It’s true he doesn’t need the restraints that Dean and Bobby had been forced to use, but he should at least have cleared out the furniture so Sam didn’t hurt himself if he was thrown around the room like last time.

It’s all very well Lucifer saying he’s there for Sam, but he doesn’t seem to have the faintest idea of what’s about to happen.

 _“Sam pushes himself to a sitting position and rests back against the headboard. ‘I can do this,’ he whispers to himself.”_ Dean pauses. “Yeah, I know you can, Sam,” he says. “Just hang in there.”

He reads as Sam struggles through the nausea, and he raises an eyebrow at Lucifer’s attempts to help. The fallen angel doesn’t know what’s to come, and Dean wonders how long he will last before he leaves Sam alone in that room like he and Bobby were forced to. He skims through the pages, waiting for the moment it will get real, and then he finds it.

_“Sam lies on the bed, tremors rocking his body, wondering when the worst will come, when it does. One moment he is looking at Lucifer’s profile, the next the fallen angel turns his head and it’s Alastair looking at him. ‘Hey, Sammy,’ he says in his nasal tone. ‘You miss me?’ Sam jerks upright and throws himself off the bed. He skitters across the floor, backing himself into a corner with his knees drawn up to his chest. Alastair pulls a scalpel from his shirt pocket. ‘Oh the fun we will have,’ he says, admiring the blade. Sam buries his head in his hands and he screams.”_

Dean’s hands come up to cover his face. Alastair is there. He knows it’s not real, that Alastair is dead, and he can’t really hurt Sam, but Sam’s mind is going to present him with those horrors anyway.

_“The light assaults Sam eyes and he cringes back. He pushes himself to his feet, swaying. He needs to get away before Alastair returns. There is a voice coming from behind him, pleading for him to listen, but he can’t. It’s a trick. He runs for the door and then someone is grabbing him, holding him back. ‘Easy, Sam,’ the voice says. ‘It’s going to be okay.’ ‘Dean? Where’s Dean?’ Sam cries. ‘I need Dean!’”_

Dean’s fingers clench, creasing the paper. He knows that if he was there, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help Sam, but the need remains.

_He falls to his knees and curls into himself, rocking. ‘I need my brother.’ The voice sighs and a cool hand brushes over his forehead. He turns into the touch. It’s soothing against the harshness that is assaulting his senses. A warmth passes through him and his eyes drift closed. He sleeps.”_

“Lucifer is putting him to sleep?” Bobby says.

“It will not last long,” Castiel says. “There are limits even to Lucifer’s abilities.”

“Still, it’s something when we have nothing,” Dean says.

_“Suddenly, Sam stiffens and looks across the room, as if seeing something other than the blandly decorated wall. His eyes fill with tears and he whispers. ‘Mom?’”_

Dean gapes at the pages. Sam never mentioned this! He thinks perhaps this could be the one good thing about the withdrawal, god knows he would love to see his mother again, but he soon realizes that it’s a curse not a blessing.

“ _She is beautiful and ethereal and everything Sam wants to see, but she is not happy. Her mouth is turned down at the corners and there is a crease between her brows. ‘Sam,’ she says stiffly. ‘How could you do this?’ Tears fill Sam’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It was Famine.’ ‘Excuses,’ she snaps. ‘You did this to yourself, and you know it. After all I sacrificed for you, you would defile your body again.’”_

“No,” Dean says. “No! No! No! This is too messed up.” He rakes a hand through his hair. He can’t read about his mom saying those things to Sam. He just can’t.

Someone reaches out and takes the pages from him, but he doesn’t know who it is until Bobby starts to read.

_“Sam hides his face in his hands. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘We trusted you, Sam,’ she says. ‘You told Dean you would be strong, but I do not see a strong man in front of me. Do you know what I see? I see a puling child that has destroyed himself and his brother because of his selfishness.’”_

No, Sam, Dean thinks. Don’t listen.

Bobby reads on remorselessly, driving every word his mother speaks into Dean’s brain. As Sam pleads to Lucifer, Dean mentally does the same. Hoping that Lucifer can take away this horror before it breaks his brother’s mind.

_“Sam lets out a moan and then pushes himself up to his feet. He staggers his way toward the bathroom, Lucifer on his heels. Sam wavers and then nearly falls, but Lucifer is there to catch him. He slips his arms beneath Sam’s from behind and helps lower him to the floor. ‘Easy, Sam,’ he says as Sam tenses and collapses against the toilet. Lucifer winces in sympathy as Sam begins to heave in earnest. It’s a painful retching noise broken by Sam’s pained whimpers. Lucifer reaches for a washcloth and quickly dampens it in the sink. He folds it and places it on the back of Sam’s neck.  He grabs another and dampens it as well, this time though, he reaches around and wipes Sam’s face.”_

Dean hitches in a breath. He has just noticed, through the horror of the narration, that Lucifer is still there. He hasn’t run away as Dean thought he would. He is there for Sam every step of the way, holding him and fetching him washcloths. A wave of guilt rushes through Dean, and he feels like a dick.

“He’s still there,” he says in a whisper. “Lucifer is still there.”

Bobby nods, and Dean sees the same realization in Bobby’s eyes that must be in his.

“We didn’t know what to expect,” Bobby says. “We thought we were doing the right thing.”

“We left him in there alone,” Dean says.

Bobby shakes his head. “We didn’t know better.”

“Neither does Lucifer,” Dean says. “But look at him. He’s taking care of Sam when we just locked him in the panic room. We sat up here and got drunk and listened to him scream, and dammit!” He kicks out at a chair and it flies across the room. “We just left him!”

Bobby nods. “I know we did,” he says heavily. “And reading these pages I wish we could take it back and fix it all, but we can’t. What’s done is done, and no amount of beating ourselves up is going to change that.”

Castiel picks up the papers. “Shall I take a turn at the reading?”

Dean doesn’t care who reads, and Bobby looks too lost in his own thoughts to care either, so Dean nods to Castiel. “Sure thing, Cas.”

_“Sam sinks back against Lucifer and closes his eyes. ‘I’m dying.’ Lucifer hums, maneuvering Sam so he is pressed up against him, his head resting against his chest. ‘You're not dying, Sam. I know it seems bad, but you’re doing well.’ ‘It hurts, Lucifer.’”_

The words tear at Dean. He is hearing about how the Devil, Satan himself, is taking care of his brother, and for all the hatred he feels toward the Devil, he is thankful for him in that moment.

_“Lucifer sighs. ‘I know, and I wish I could take the pain away.’ ‘Please, Lucifer, let me sleep again. Just for a minute. I can’t keep doing this.’ ‘It won’t last, Sam.’ ‘Please,’ Lucifer nods and then brings his hand to Sam’s temple. A moment later, Sam goes lax. Lucifer lifts him into his arms and moves him to the bedroom. He lays him down on the bed and shifts him into what looks like a comfortable position. Sitting beside Sam, he lays a hand on his forehead to hope to ease the burn of the fever coursing through Sam.”_

Castiel pauses. “He seems... different.”

“Yeah, demon blood withdrawal will do that to you, Cas,” Dean says.

“No, although that is shocking to read, I didn’t mean Sam, I meant Lucifer. He is being gentle and consoling Sam. I never expected this.”

“It’s a new one on us all,” Bobby says. “But let’s just be thankful for it.”

_“When Sam’s eyes open, he is looking up into a smiling face. It’s not a friendly face, not Dean or Bobby or even Castiel. It’s Ruby’s face, and she looks delighted to see Sam again. ‘Sam,’ she says happily. ‘It’s been too long.’”_

Dean gasps. “Ruby!”

Castiel nods. “That is what it says.”

“Damn demon bitch,” Dean says.

_“Sam tries to flinch away from her, but he finds that he is pinned in place. Leather restraints encircle his wrists and ankles, and he is lying spread-eagled on some hard surface. She draws a knife from behind her, and Sam recognizes it at once. It’s the demon blade. ‘You see this,’ she says. ‘Your brother slid this knife into me, killing me dead. Remember that, Sam?’ Sam stares at her, his eyes wide with terror. ‘I asked you a question!’ she snaps, striking him across the cheek. ‘I remember,’ Sam says.”_

Dean remembers, too. He remembers how good it felt to slide that knife into her and kill her dead. How it was the one good thing to happen that nightmare of a week.

_“‘Good. Now, I am going to take this blade and I am going to show you exactly how it feels. How do you think it will react to all that demon blood rushing through your veins, Sammy? Shall we find out?’ She plunges the knife into Sam’s thigh, and he cries out in pain. ‘Hurts, doesn’t it?’ she says, twisting the blade. ‘I remember, too.’ She rips the knife out of his flesh, and he can feel the blood soaking the leg of his sweats.”_

“it’s so real to him,” Dean says. “The pain I can get, that’s easy to imagine, but the detail of it. It really screws him over, doesn’t it.”

Chuck clears his throat. “I wish I could say I used artistic license, but I didn’t. I have seen and experienced a lot of things since my dreams turned in to you guys, but Sam’s withdrawal is the worst.”

_“She taps the blade against her chin. ‘Now, that wasn’t a very successful experiment. I wasn’t looking carefully. I need a broader canvas.’ She slices away his sweatshirt and the tank underneath so his chest is laid bare to the cool air. ‘This will do.’ She doesn’t plunge the knife in this time. She rests the tip of the blade above his nipple and leans on it slightly, just breaking the skin. She drags it across him, creating swirling patterns in his flesh.”_

Dean runs a hand over the healed wounds on his chest distractedly. Hearing of Sam’s wounds brings to mind the horrors Alastair unleashed upon him, and he feels phantom wounds itch.

_“Sam cries out in pain, and he pleads for her to stop, but she doesn’t. He feels the blood pooling around him, sticky and warm, and still she slices at him. Looking down his chest he can see only red as she parts flesh in her own demented stylings. ‘Anything to say now, Sam?’ she asks. ‘Do you want to apologize, perhaps?’ Sam grits his teeth. ‘Yeah, I’m sorry, sorry I didn’t get to kill you myself.’”_

Dean chuckles in spite of himself. It’s a relief to know Sam still has some of his fight left in him. That’s until Castiel clears his throat and finishes.

_“With a shriek of rage, she plunges the knife into his chest, driving it straight through his heart.”_

“Jesus,” Dean says in a whisper.

_“Sam begins to gag and choke, and Lucifer quickly slips a hand under his head, cradling it. ‘Breathe, Sam,’ Lucifer commands. And then he does. It’s slow and hitching but he breathes. ‘That’s it,’ Lucifer says. ‘Nice and slow. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.’_

Dean sighs and runs a shaky hand through his hair. “This is getting pretty twisted, Chuck. You sure this is all gonna happen.”

Chuck nods. “Every word of it. I’ve tried to tell you before, Sam’s special.”

“Special how?” Bobby asks.

Chuck shrugs. “I don’t know. I just know that he is.”

Dean listens in silence as Castiel reads, but he can’t hold back a groan as Sam asks his question.

_“‘Can’t you just kill me?’”_

“Dammit, Sammy,” he says. “You don’t say shit like that. No matter how bad things get, that’s not the answer.”

_“‘Of all the things I could do for you, you ask the one thing I cannot.’ ‘Because I am your vessel?’ Sam asks. ‘No, Sam, because you are you.’ Lucifer lays a hand on Sam’s brow and sends him to sleep again for a minute of peace.”_

Castiel pauses and Dean knows something bad is coming.

“Go on, Cas,” he says, bracing himself. “We need to hear it.”

Castiel sighs and continues. “ _Sam rests for only a moment before his arms flail out from at his sides and his whole body begins to shake. His head is tilted back and his arms are curled in at his sides. Every muscle in his body seems to be contracting. Sam’s breath comes in a rasp, and Lucifer crouches on the bed beside him.”_

“Dammit!” Dean gasps. “He’s having a seizure!”

Sam is having a seizure and the only person there is a fallen angel without even basic first aid knowledge.

“Chuck, I swear on all that’s holy, you better tell me the truth. Is Sam going to make it through this?”

Chuck nods energetically. “He makes it through this day. I have seen it. I swear.”

That assurance should calm Dean, but it doesn’t. He listens with his heart racing as Castiel continues down the page.

_“‘Sam, it’s okay. Relax for me, please,’ Lucifer pleads, but Sam either cannot hear him or he is unable to obey. He continues to shudder and shake. Lucifer presses his hand against Sam’s temple and tries to send him to sleep again, but it doesn’t work. Lucifer sees blood drip down from Sam’s clenched fists, and he struggles to uncurl Sam’s fingers. When he does, he sees that Sam’s fingernails have cut into his palm.”_

“Dammit!” Dean curses loudly. “What the hell good is he if he doesn’t even know what’s happening?”

“Keep reading, Cas,” Chuck advises.

_“Slowly, painfully slowly, Sam’s body relaxes and his breaths come easier again. His eyes stay closed though, and he doesn’t respond to Lucifer’s voice calling to him. He looks more comfortable than he has been since the withdrawal started, though. So Lucifer merely rests a hand on his side and watches the rise and fall of Sam’s chest as he breathes.”_

Dean exhales a shaky breath. Sam got through it. It’d been close, but he made it through. Thinking that nothing else to come could be as bad as what they have already heard, he gestures for Castiel to continue.

Castiel looks apologetic as he speaks. “ _The first thing Sam as he opens his eyes and looks around the room is Dean. He is sitting on the edge of the bed looking across at Sam.”_

“Wait, what?” Dean says in a hoarse voice. “What the hell am I doing there?”

Chuck looks awkward, and he refuses to meet Dean’s eye.

_“Sam is so relieved to see his brother again that he doesn’t notice Dean’s scowl at first. ‘Dean, man, it’s so good to see you. How did you get here? Where’s Lucifer?’ Dean scowls. ‘I can’t say the same about seeing you. You look like shit.’”_

“No! Hell, no!” Dean says. “I’m not hearing this shit. There’s no way he’s seeing me there.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Chuck says. “I had to write what I saw.”

“We know you did,” Bobby says before Dean can speak. “It’s not your fault, Chuck.” He turns his gaze on Dean. “And it’s not yours either. No matter what happens now, it’s not you doing it.”

“You think that makes it easier?” Dean asks.

“Of course not, but you don’t have to listen. None of us do. We know Sam makes it through the day. We can leave it there.”

“I can’t,” Dean says. “If he has to live this, the least I can do is hear it.”

Bobby nods approvingly. “Okay then, Cas.”

_“Sam runs a hand through his hair and tries to straighten his shirt. ‘Sorry, it’s just been rough day.’ Dean laughs. ‘You were always so pathetic. Look at you. You’re such a waste.’ Sam recoils like the words have physically hurt him. ‘Why are you saying this?’ Dean gets to his feet and paces the length of the room. ‘Because it’s true, Sam, and I’m sick of pretending otherwise. I mean just look at what you’ve been doing lately.’ ‘What have I done?’ ‘You think we don’t know? Chuck has seen it all. You and the Devil cosying it up in the diner, hanging onto his every word. What were you thinking, Sam?’”_

Dean knows it not really him speaking, but hearing Sam’s reactions he can picture the scene so easily. He can imagine how it must feel for his brother to be on the receiving end of these words.

_“‘I did what I had to do,’ Sam says defensively. ‘Yeah, what you had to do was give us actual helpful information. You had Famine here in the hotel and you didn’t raise a finger against him.’ ‘I couldn’t help it. It was the blood.’ ‘Yes, the filthy demon blood that courses through your veins. As if it wasn’t bad enough what yellow-eyes turned you into, you had to make it worse by sucking down the damn stuff. Making yourself even more of a freak than you already were.’  Sam curls in on himself. It’s everything he has ever feared Dean to be thinking.”_

That’s too much for Dean to hear. The fact that Sam had already been thinking these things. He crosses the room and grabs up the fresh bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. He doesn’t care that it’s early, he doesn’t care that Bobby is watching him disapprovingly, he only cares about what he’s just heard. He opens the bottle and gulps down a mouthful. It burns his throat, but the burn is welcome physical pain to overpower the emotional.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and nods to Castiel. “Get on with it.”

_“‘I could never love someone as filthy as you. Monster, Sam. You're a monster.’ ‘Dean, no.’ ‘And I tried so hard to pretend that we were brothers. That you weren't one of the filthy things that we hunt. But we're not even the same species. You're nothing to me.’ ‘Don't say that to me. Don't you say that to me.’”_

Dean wishes there was something he could do, some way to reach Sam, but there is nothing. He can do nothing but listen as Castiel reads his brother’s horrors aloud.

_“Dean raises his hand and Sam sees the glint of the light on the demon blade. Dean smiles. ‘Yeah, you see it, don’t you, Sam. A demon blade to kill a demon child.’ ‘No!’ Sam pleads. ‘Please don’t!’ Dean steps forward and reaches for Sam. He grips Sam’s hair and yanks his head back. Resting the knife directly over Sam’s throat, he presses down. ‘Goodbye, Sam.’ Sam feels the blade cut through his flesh and muscle, and blood pours from the wound, soaking his shirt. He chokes and gasps, trying to draw breath, inhaling blood into his lungs.”_

“It’s not real, Dean,” Bobby says gently. “He’s okay.”

Dean knows that, he knows it’s not real, so why are his eyes burning, and why does he feel like he just killed his brother?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you’re reading this, you’ve made it to the end of the chapter. It was long, huh? Sorry. We were feeling wordy. We love you all. Thanks so much, snarks and clowns


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading.

Lucifer puts Sam to sleep late on the second day, and this time, he stays asleep. When he wakes, eighteen hours later, he feels that the worst is over.

He raises his head from the sweat-soaked pillow and looks for Lucifer. He finds him, sitting beside him on the bed, his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. He looks at Sam, concern creasing his brow.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Sam says. “I think it’s over now.”

Lucifer sighs with relief.

Sam throws back the blankets and pushes himself to the edge of the bed. His head swims and he feels weak, but when he stands, his legs hold him.

“Are you sure you should be moving around?” Lucifer asks.

Sam nods. “I can’t stay in these clothes. I need to shower.”

He goes into the bathroom and turns on the water. As it runs to the correct temperature, he examines his reflection in the mirror. He looks terrible. His face is still covered with a sheen of sweat, and there are dark shadows under his eyes. He scrubs a hand over his face and feels the days of stubble accumulated. He needs to shave, but first he needs to wash the sweat and dirt from his body.

He steps under the hot water spray and raises his face to the water, feeling the sweat slickening his skin washing away. He looks down at his chest, seeing the his scars accumulated in a life spent hunting. Those are the only scars he has. His hallucination of Ruby slicing into his skin with the demon blade leave none.

He stays in the shower, scrubbing at his skin, for so long that Lucifer taps on the door and asks if he is okay.

“I’m fine,” Sam says. “Give me a moment.”

He steps out of the shower, wraps a towel around his waist, and then stands at the sink to shave.

He feels no embarrassment as he walks back into the bedroom wearing only a towel. Lucifer has seen him at him most vulnerable, and he didn’t turn away. There is nothing Sam can do with him that will embarrass him now.

“You look better,” Lucifer observes.

“I feel it, too.”

He goes to his duffel and roots through it for some clean clothes. Lucifer stands and tells Sam there is something he needs to attend to. Sam nods reluctantly. He’s not sure he wants to be alone already.

“It will not take me long,” Lucifer says. “But I must leave the hotel for a while. Call me if you need me.”

“Okay.”

With a soft rustling sound, Lucifer is gone and Sam is alone.

He flicks on the television for company and gets dressed. He then sits on the end of the bed and rests his palms on his knees.

Strangely, tears prick at his eyes, and he is overcome with an aching loneliness. He wishes more than anything that he was at Bobby’s with the rest of them, sharing a beer and good company. Knowing he is one step away from losing it all together, he calls to Lucifer.

Lucifer appears and looks closely at Sam. “You’re upset.”

Sam nods and rubs at his eyes. “I need a distraction.”

Lucifer looks pleased. “What would you like to do?”

In answer, Sam’s stomach rumbles loudly. “I think I should probably eat.”

Lucifer looks uncertain. “Are you sure you’re ready? You have been very unwell.”

“I’m sure,” Sam says. “I think that’s part of why I feel so shaky. Us humans need to eat regularly, and it’s been a few days.”

Lucifer nods. “Would you like to order here or would you prefer to go out?”

“I’d like to go out,” Sam says. He has spent enough time suffering in this room; he needs a break from it.

“Very well,” Lucifer says, holding out a hand.

Sam takes it without hesitation and allows Lucifer to ease him to his feet. As they walk out of the room, Lucifer keeps a hand on the small of Sam’s back, as if he expects him to falter. The touch doesn’t bother Sam. He finds it comforting to know that Lucifer isn’t flinching away from him after seeing him at his very worst.

The cool air hits Sam as he steps out of the hotel’s double doors. It’s evening now. Sam tries to calculate how many days he lost in the withdrawal. He has lost track of the date, as there was never any need to know during his time with Lucifer. He will have to buy a newspaper in the morning.

When they come to the diner, Sam sees that Shirley is nowhere in sight. Relieved, he doesn’t think he’s up to her flirting with Lucifer today, he goes to their usual booth and sits down. An elderly lady wearing a pink apron comes to their table, hands them the menu, and takes their drink order. Sam orders a coke, thinking the sugar will do him good. Lucifer orders coffee and smiles at Sam’s raised eyebrow. “I have come to like the smell,” he says.

Sam laughs. That conversation seems like a lifetime ago, when really it was only a matter of days. So much has changed since then.

Sam scans through the menu, looking for something that he wants, and he pauses when he sees the soups. His stomach is better but it’s still not great. He doesn't want to risk upsetting it again anytime soon.

The waitress comes over to the booth and smiles at Sam. “What can I get you, hon?”

“Chicken noodle soup, please.”

She nods and looks to Lucifer. “And you?”

“Nothing for me, thank you,” he says politely.

The waitress goes back to the counter, and Sam fiddles with the sugar packets in their container, sorting them into colors. He feels unexpectedly uneasy.

“What’s wrong?” Lucifer asks. “You are more… twitchy than usual.”

Sam draws a deep breath. “I need to say something.”

Lucifer nods for him to continue, and Sam chews his lip.

“Thank you,” he says in a quiet voice.

Lucifer’s brow creases with confusion. “For what?”

“Taking care of me. I remember most of it, and I remember what you did for me.”

“I told you I would take care of you, Sam,” Lucifer says. “What did you expect me to do?”

Sam looks down at the table. What he had expected was for Lucifer to lock him away somewhere alone to ride it out. He never expected him to show the care and tenderness he had. He doesn’t know how to put his gratitude into words.

Lucifer sighs. “You expected me to do what your brother and Mr. Singer did?”

Sam nods reluctantly. “Yeah.”

“I am not cruel, Sam.”

“Neither are they,” Sam says immediately. “They were doing the right thing. There was no need for them to suffer through it with me.”

Lucifer tilts his head to the side. “Perhaps they aren’t, but I care for you too much to leave you to suffer alone.”

Sam knows Dean and Bobby care about him, too. That’s one of the few things he is sure about in what has become a very confusing time for him. They care about him, and if they thought it would have made a difference, they would have been there for him like Lucifer was. He hadn’t deserved their comfort at that time. He had betrayed them both repeatedly, lying to them. He hadn’t deserved Lucifer’s comfort either, but that hadn’t seemed to matter to the fallen angel.

The waitress arrives with Sam’s food, and he eats slowly, not wanting to overwhelm his stomach.

Lucifer clears his throat, and Sam looks up. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I want to ask you something, and it may be too personal,” Lucifer says.

Lucifer has seen Sam at his very worst now. There is no more too personal between them.

“Ask,” he says.

“You called out at times during the process of withdrawal. You called to God. I was wondering why.”

Sam looks puzzled. “Why I call out to God?”

Lucifer nods.

Sam sets down his spoon and looks intently out of the window as he considers his answer. “My family has never been what you would call religious, but I have always had faith. I always believed in God and angels. Then Dean died, and I started to doubt him. If there was a god, how could he let Dean die for me? It wasn’t fair. I tried to make deals with demons, and that didn’t work, but I also prayed. Then Dean came back. Angels brought him back. I call out to God because, for whatever reason, he answered my prayer once, and I can’t help hoping he’ll do it again.”

Lucifer looks thoughtful. “You know it wasn’t my father that answered your prayers, don’t you? Your brother was returned to earth as he is a vital piece in what’s happening now.”

Sam shrugs. “It doesn’t matter to me who did it. I got my brother back. That’s what matters.”

Lucifer frowns. “But it wasn’t God answering your prayer.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam says again.

Lucifer’s mouth presses into a hard line. “But it clearly matters to you.”

“And apparently to you, too,” Sam says. “Why?”

Lucifer considers for a moment. “I don’t truly know. I suppose I don’t want you to feel foolish when you learn the truth.”

“And what truth is that?”

Lucifer sighs. “It doesn’t matter. Finish your food.”

Sam dutifully picks up his spoon and finishes his soup.

xXx

“Do you feel up to walking some more, or do you need to rest?” Lucifer asks when they have left the diner.

“A walk sounds good,” Sam says. He isn’t ready to go back to the hotel yet.

Lucifer leads Sam through the streets, and they come to a small park.

They stroll along the paths, coming to a fountain in the center. Lucifer gestures for Sam to sit, and he does, letting his fingers drop into the cool water. It’s dusk, and the park is almost deserted. Birds are roosting, and their song adds to the ambient sounds of the evening.

Sam looks around him, and he wonders how anyone could want to end all this.

“You’re looking thoughtful,” Lucifer says.

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t want to argue.”

Lucifer raises an eyebrow. “Now I have to know what you’re thinking.”

Sam sighs. “I was just thinking how good this all is and wondering how you could want to end it.”

“I don’t want to end the world, Sam,” Lucifer says.

“What about this epic battle between you and Michael that is supposed to tear the world apart.”

Lucifer looks genuinely surprised. “I don’t want that. Nothing could grieve me more than to fight my brother.”

“But then why do you want me to say yes?”

“Because Michael wants the fight, and I have to defend myself. Believe me, Sam. I have no desire to end the world.”

“But you want to end humanity.”

Lucifer frowns. “Humans... I don’t know what to tell you, Sam.”

“I’m human,” Sam says. “Do you want to end me?”

Lucifer looks him deep in the eyes. “I want that even less than I want to fight my brother.”

“Then why do it? How do you see this ending, Lucifer? Me being the only company for you in your new world, with no other humans, just you and your demons.”

“My demons will eventually be destroyed, too.”

Sam raises his hands in frustration. “You’re recreating the cage on earth. You will be just as alone.”

Lucifer frowns. “If you say yes to me, we will be together forever. We will reside in the same body, your spirit and my own, together.”

“And what about what I want?” Sam asks. “What about Dean and Bobby and Cas? I don’t want them to die. Don’t you see? I can never say yes, because that will be their end as well as mine. You will kill them all.”

“If I swore that I wouldn’t kill the people you care about, would you say yes?”

Sam shakes his head. “No, because it’s not just them, Lucifer. It’s everyone. I can’t be responsible for the world’s death. If you think the death of that family broke me...”

The corners of Lucifer’s mouth turn down slightly. He appears in deep thought. He blinks and then looks to his hands, which are clasped in his lap and he sighs. “It would tear you apart.” He is speaking to himself more than to Sam.

That’s the one thing Sam can’t get past. Lucifer knows what it would do to him, but he wants to do it anyway. He thinks he has come to know Lucifer well, especially over the last few days. He sees what kind of man he is, and despite himself, he likes him, but he can’t reconcile that man with the being that wants to end the world. It’s as if Lucifer is two people, one of them held him as he suffered through withdrawal with more care than anyone has ever shown Sam outside of his small family, and the other wants to be the one to tear that family apart.

What frightens Sam is the fact that, even knowing what Lucifer is capable of and what he wants to achieve, he sympathizes with him and he has even come to care for him. That thought makes him feel more than a little ashamed of himself.

He wonders what Dean is thinking now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love. We really appreciate it and can’t wait to hear what you think.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading.

Dean is sitting out on the front porch, nursing a mug of coffee. In the background, he can hear Chuck clicking away at the keyboard. Dean wonders what is to come in these pages. At the end of the last day’s pages, Sam was sleeping, and Dean hopes that portends an end to the withdrawal process.

He stands and tosses the dregs of his coffee onto the grass and goes back into the house. Bobby is seated at the desk, cleaning his gun. Castiel isn’t home; he’s out on the God hunt. Dean hopes he has some luck soon, as it looks like God is the only being capable of getting Sam away from Lucifer.

Pouring more coffee, he goes to sit on the edge of the desk. “So, Chuck, you got good news for me?” he asks.

“Yeah, Sam is getting through the last of it now. He’s going to sleep a lot more, but when he wakes up, it will be over.”

Dean exhales a shaky breath.

“Two days,” Bobby says thoughtfully. “That damn fool was almost through with it when he bust out of the panic room last time.”

Dean nods. The same thought had occurred to him.

There is a rustling sound, and Dean turns, expecting to see Castiel, but the person looking back at him is not Castiel. Dean’s hand snaps back and he grabs Bobby’s gun. He aims it and pulls the trigger on an empty barrel.

“Dammit!” he curses.

“Temper, temper, Dean. That’s no way to treat a guest.”

Bobby slides open the drawer of his desk and pulls out his pistol. He levels it at the intruder and speaks in a low growl. “You best tell me what you’re doing here or I’m going to empty the barrel of this thing into your head.”

“Now, Bobby,” the man chides. “You and I both know that’s not loaded.”

Chuck is staring between the newcomer and Dean and looking extremely confused. “I know you,” he says. “You’re the Trickster!”

“Ah, that’s one smart prophet you’ve got yourself there, Dean,” the Trickster says.

“Cas!” Dean bellows. “We need you now!”

“Now, Dean, there’s no need to go calling your guardian angel. I’m not here for trouble. If I was, do you think Raphael would be so quiet?”

There is a second rustling sound and Castiel appears. His blade is drawn, and he looks directly at the Trickster.

“Do I kill him, Dean?” he asks.

The Trickster laughs. “Oh, you’re too funny. I can see why they keep you around.”

“Dean?” Castiel prompts.

Dean raises his hand. “Hang on, Cas. I want to know what the hell he wants. As soon as I get that out of him, you can play hack away with the angel blade all you like.”

The Trickster rolls his eyes. “Oooh, scary.”

“Enough of this bullshit,” Dean snaps. “What do you want?”

The Trickster taps his chin. “I want to tell you a story.”

Dean raises an eyebrow but he doesn’t speak.

“See, I had the wonderful game planned for you and your brother. You wouldn’t believe the work I put into it. Weeks of planning and dry-walling, but it’s all for nothing.” He sighs and puts his hands on his hips. “Damn inconsiderate if you ask me.”

“What was the game?” Dean asks. “You going to kill me over and over again?”

The Trickster frowns. “I am nothing if not original, and that is so 2008.”

“Okay,” Bobby says. “What was this great, _original_ idea you had?”

The Trickster waves an airy hand. “It doesn’t matter. It’s one of those ‘you had to be there’ things. The point is that I put a lot of work into it, and it’s all been wasted. You nitwits haven’t gotten the message.”

“What was the message?” Dean asks.

“That you must play your roles.”

Dean looks at him blankly. “Our roles?”

The Trickster claps his hands and looks excited. “Oh, you know. Sam starring as Lucifer. Dean starring as Michael. Your celebrity death match. Play your roles.“

“You want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?” Dean asks.

“Hells yeah. Let's light this candle! You’re holding up the line here, Dean. Your brother is already primed and ready for the yes vote. All we’re waiting on is you, big boy.”

“You know about Sam?” Dean asks.

“Well, duh! Who doesn’t? Little Sammy’s the talk of the town. Ever since he signed up to be Lucifer’s bunk buddy. He’s set to say yay.”

Dean huffs and crosses the room. “Whatever everyone is saying, they’re wrong. Sam isn’t saying yes anytime soon.” He snatches up the wad of pages that have accumulated since Sam’s imprisonment and shoves them into the Trickster’s chest. “Read this!”

The Trickster grins. “You have a story for me? How sweet. I didn’t bring anything for you.”

“Just read,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

The Trickster flops down Bobby’s bed and kicks his feet up. Dean expects Bobby to shoot him right then.

The Trickster flips through the pages, barely skimming the words.

“I said read,” Dean growls.

“I am,” the Trickster says innocently. “Just because Castiel reads like an old woman, doesn’t mean we all do.”

Castiel’s eyes widen and he gapes at the Trickster. “But you...”

“Goodbye, Castiel,” the Trickster says, not looking up. He clicks his fingers and Castiel vanishes.

“What the hell?” Dean gasps. “What did you do to him?”

“I sent him away for a moment. Don’t worry, your puppy will find its way home eventually.”

The Trickster gets to his feet and puts the papers down on the desk. “Not a bad read, Chuck. Not your greatest work; it needs a little more romance.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bobby demands.

The Trickster frowns and looks to Chuck. “Are they always this grouchy?”

Chuck nods jerkily. “Umm... Yeah.”

The Trickster laughs. “Well, I’ve got things to do and people to see. I’ll leave you chuckle-heads in peace.” He pats the pages on the desk and grins. “Ahh, Lucifer. What have you been doing, my dear brother?”

“Brother!” Dean and Bobby say at the same time, but there is no answer. With another rustling sound, the Trickster is gone.

“What that...? Who the...? Can someone tell me what just happened, please?” Chuck says.

“Just as soon as we know, we’ll fill you in,” Bobby says in a breathless voice.

There is a rustling sound, and Dean turns, expecting the Trickster, but it’s Castiel standing behind him, looking stunned.

“Cas, man, are you okay?” Dean asks.

“I’m fine,” Castiel says. “It seems my brother has an interesting sense of humor.”

“Your brother?” Dean says incredulously. “Who the hell was that?”

Castiel smiles. “That was my brother, Gabriel.”

"As in _the_ Gabriel? The archangel?” Bobby asks.

“Yes.”

“Okay, you’re gonna need to explain this to me in short words,” Dean says. “‘Cause I’m feeling a little slow.”

“That was my brother, Gabriel. Gabriel is an archangel.”

“But how?” Dean says breathlessly.

“To tell the truth, I don’t know,” Castiel says. “He was lost many millennia ago. Shortly after Lucifer’s fall from grace. We believed he was dead.”

“Well, he’s obviously not.” Dean says.

“This is indeed good news,” Castiel says. “This news brings me much joy.”

“And I’m happy for you,” Dean says. “But let’s jump back a few pages. How can he be a trickster?  I thought the archangels were all pissy pains in the ass without a sense of humor.”

Castiel smiles. “He was always the most facetious of the archangels. He was Lucifer’s favorite.”

Dean sinks back down onto the edge of the desk and rakes a hand through his hair. “Lucifer’s favorite. Well, that’s just fantastic. Now we've got two psycho fallen angels on us.”

“Gabriel is not a psycho,” Castiel says, frowning. “Nor is he fallen in the technical sense of the term.”

“Easy for you to say. He didn’t kill you a hundred different ways,” Dean says brutally.

Castiel nods serenely. “That must have been very difficult for you.”

“For me? Try damn torture, and not for me, for Sam. He remembers every one of those days and every way I was killed. Your brother is a prime dick!”

“Scroll back to the psycho part,” Bobby says. “If he’s Lucifer’s favorite... Did we just give a whole load of information to the wrong guy?”

Castiel considers for a moment. “I do not believe Gabriel will join Lucifer in his quest to end the world.”

“He seemed pretty gung ho about getting a yes from me,” Dean says.

Castiel nods but doesn’t speak.

“You got no insight into that?” Bobby asks hopefully.

Chuck clears his throat. “He didn’t seem to weigh in on either side when he was talking to you, Dean. He seemed more concerned with you playing your role. Perhaps he’s on Michael’s side.”

“Did he give any idea of where he’s going next?” Castiel asks.

“Nope,” Dean says, shrugging. “He just dropped the ‘Lucifer is my brother’ bomb on us and disappeared. By the way, where did he send you?”

“To an establishment called the Spearmint Rhino.”

Dean laughs. “Okay, he may be a dick, but he’s got a sense of humor.”

“You got any insight on this, Chuck?” Bobby asks. “Can you see him with Lucifer?”

“Not today,” Chuck says. “But if he doesn’t actually make contact with Sam, I won’t see him. I cannot follow Lucifer’s path.”

“So we’re screwed,” Dean says bitterly. “We may have just sent Lucifer a brand new sidekick and there’s not a thing we can do about it.”

Chuck laughs nervously, drawing all eyes to him.

“What’s so funny, Chuckles?” Dean asks.

“I was just thinking, if we have sent him to Lucifer, Sam is going to have an interesting reaction to him. He’ll be sporting a stake through the heart in no time.”

“Yeah, and what do you think Lucifer will do if Sam kills his new playmate?”

Chuck shakes his head. “Nothing. You aren’t listening to me. Sam is special.”

“I am listening,” Dean says. “I’m just not believing.”

Bobby claps his hands together. “Anyway... You got some pages for us, Chuck? I want to hear how Sam’s doing.”

Dean’s preoccupation with Gabriel and Lucifer is forgotten at the thought of more news of Sam, and he looks expectantly at Chuck.

“Yeah, give me a minute to finish, and I’ll have them ready for you.”

It took Chuck more than a minute to finish the pages, and by the time he was done, Dean was waiting at the printer, ready to snatch up the first page.

Dean skims through Sam’s shower and conversation with Lucifer, coming to a stop when he reads Sam uncharacteristic show of emotion.

 _“Strangely, tears prick at his eyes, and he is overcome with an aching loneliness. He wishes more than anything that he was at Bobby’s with the rest of them, sharing a beer and good company. Knowing he is one step away from losing it all together, he calls to Lucifer. Lucifer appears and looks closely at Sam. ‘You’re upset.’”_ Dean raises an eyebrow. “Smart guy, Lucifer, of course he’s upset. He’s coming down from withdrawal, and he can’t be with the people he needs.”

“I know,” Bobby says consolingly. “We’ll get him back soon enough.”

“I don’t know if that’s enough, Bobby,” Dean says. “There’s something up with Sam in these pages. He’s different.”

“What do you mean?”

In response, Dean reads aloud. _“‘I’d like to go out,’ Sam says. He has spent enough time suffering in this room; he needs a break from it. ‘Very well,’ Lucifer says, holding out a hand. Sam takes it without hesitation and allows Lucifer to ease him to his feet. As they walk out of the room, Lucifer keeps a hand on the small of Sam’s back, as if he expects him to falter. The touch doesn’t bother Sam. He finds it comforting to know that Lucifer isn’t flinching away from him after seeing him at his very worst.”_

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Bobby says. “Lucifer’s being a bit touchy feely.”

“That’s not what’s bothering me,” Dean says. “Though it’s weird in its own right. It’s the fact it doesn’t bother Sam that’s got me thinking. He’s not exactly a hugger.”

Bobby scrubs a hand through his beard. “I don’t know. He’s definitely more tactile than you. Maybe this is just Sam’s way of coping. He says he’s still feeling weak and shaky, maybe Lucifer is helping him.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean says.

Dean skims through the pages of their arrival at the diner and ordering food.

_“The waitress goes back to the counter, and Sam fiddles with the sugar packets in their container, sorting them into colors. He feels unexpectedly uneasy. ‘What’s wrong?’ Lucifer asks. ‘You are more… twitchy than usual.’ Sam draws a deep breath. ‘I need to say something.’ Lucifer nods for him to continue and Sam chews his lip. ‘Thank you,’ he says in a quiet voice. Lucifer’s brow creases with confusion. ‘For what?’ ‘Taking care of me. I remember most of it, and I remember what you did for me.’ ‘I told you I would take care of you, Sam,’ Lucifer says. ‘What did you expect me to do?’”_

Dean stops reading. He knows exactly what Sam was expecting him to do. He was expecting Lucifer to leave him to suffer alone like he and Bobby had.

He feels Bobby’s eyes on him and guesses he is thinking the same thing. Not wanting to get into another discussion about how they had failed Sam, he reads on.

_“Sam looks down at the table. What he had expected was for Lucifer to lock him away somewhere alone to ride it out. He never expected him to show the care and tenderness he had. He doesn’t know how to put his gratitude into words. Lucifer sighs. ‘You expected me to do what your brother and Mr. Singer did?’ Sam nods reluctantly. ‘Yeah.’ ‘I am not cruel, Sam.’”_

“Neither were we,” Bobby says harshly.

Dean looks across at him. “Weren’t we? We left him there alone, Bobby.”

“We didn’t know what form the withdrawal would take,” Bobby says doggedly. “He could have been violent for all we knew. Just ‘cause we weren’t there holding his hand, doesn’t mean we don’t care.”

_“‘Neither are they,’ Sam says immediately. ‘They were doing the right thing. There was no need for them to suffer through it with me.’ Lucifer tilts his head to the side. ‘Perhaps they aren’t, but I care for you too much to leave you to suffer alone.’”_

“He cares too much,” Dean says, looking to Chuck. “What _exactly_ does that mean?”

Chuck raises his hands. “I don’t know. I can’t read Lucifer’s mind.”

“But you clearly know something,” Bobby says. “So spit it out.”

Chuck rubs at the back of his neck uncomfortably. “All I know it that things are changing. I’ve told you this before. I don’t know what this means for Sam or Lucifer, but if you keep reading, you’ll see what I mean.”

Far from satisfied with Chuck’s answer, Dean reads on. He’s pleased that Sam at least knows he and Bobby care about him. He reminds himself that what Lucifer thinks doesn’t matter. As long as Sam knows the truth, they’re good.

_“Lucifer clears his throat, and Sam looks up. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks. ‘I want to ask you something, and it may be too personal,’ Lucifer says. Lucifer has seen Sam at his very worst now. There is no more too personal between them.”_

Dean doesn’t like this. It sounds like the withdrawal has forged some kind of bond between Sam and Lucifer. He doesn’t want Sam having any kind of connection with the Devil. It can only end badly.

His thoughts tangle and become confused, and he sets the papers down on the desk. “Am I the only one seeing a big flashing danger sign over these pages?” he asks.

“You’re not alone,” Bobby says.

“I think perhaps Sam is confused by Lucifer’s ability to enthrall his subject,” Castiel says. “But what we can do about it, I do not know.”

“That’s the problem,” Dean says bitterly. “We’ve got to get Sam away from him.”

Castiel frowns. “If you have any idea of how to accomplish that, I am willing to aid you in whatever way I can.”

“I know you are, man. It’s just that I don’t have the first idea how. It’s these pages; they are getting to me.”

“Would you prefer it if I read?” Castiel asks.

Dean holds out the pages to him. He doesn’t care who reads anymore. He’s got other things to worry about. Namely Sam’s new bond with Satan.

Castiel clears his throat. _“‘Ask,’ he says. ‘You called out at times during the process of withdrawal. You called to God. I was wondering why.’ Sam looks puzzled. ‘Why I call out to God?’ Lucifer nods. Sam sets down his spoon and looks intently out of the window as he considers his answer. ‘My family has never been what you would call religious, but I have always had faith. I always believed in God and angels. Then Dean died, and I started to doubt him. If there was a god, how could he let Dean die for me? It wasn’t fair. I tried to make deals with demons, and that didn’t work, but I also prayed. Then Dean came back. Angels brought him back. I call out to God because, for whatever reason, he answered my prayer once, and I can’t help hoping he’ll do it again.’”_

Dean is surprised by the answer. He hadn’t considered the fact Sam had called out to God during his withdrawal. He thought his brother had given up having any faith a long time ago.

_“Lucifer looks thoughtful. ‘You know it wasn’t my father that answered your prayers, don’t you? Your brother was returned to earth as he is a vital piece in what’s happening now.’ Sam shrugs. ‘It doesn’t matter to me who did it. I got my brother back. That’s what matters.’ Lucifer frowns. ‘But it wasn’t God answering your prayer.’”_

“Who was it?” Dean asks Castiel.

Castiel looks apologetic. “I do not know who gave the initial order for you to be raised. There are many echelons of power in Heaven, and I was just a piece in them.”

Dean shrugs, as if the answer doesn’t matter to him, but inside he is burning with curiosity. Who was the one that decided he should be raised.

“If I was to hazard a guess, I would say the order came from Michael,” Castiel says. “What was happening on earth at that time—Sam hunting Lilith and her going after the sixty-six seals—set us on the path we are on today, to the apocalypse. You were... you _are_ needed for that fight.”

Dean nods thoughtfully. He may be a dick that wants Dean as a meat suit, but if it was him that took Dean out of Hell, he owes Michael a thank you. He gestures for Castiel to keep reading. He wants these pages over and done with.

“ _‘It doesn’t matter,’ Sam says again. Lucifer’s mouth presses into a hard line. ‘But it clearly matters to you.’ ‘And apparently to you, too,’ Sam says. ‘Why?’ Lucifer considers for a moment. ‘I don’t truly know. I suppose I don’t want you to feel foolish when you learn the truth.’ ‘And what truth is that?’ Lucifer sighs. ‘It doesn’t matter. Finish your food.’”_

“What truth is that, Cas?” Bobby asks.

“I can only imagine that Lucifer believes, as does Raphael, that my father has gone. I do not believe that. I will not believe it. He is out there somewhere, and I will find him.”

Bobby cracks his knuckles. “Here, give me a turn with those pages.”

Castiel hands them over and goes to stand against the wall.

_“‘Do you feel up to walking some more, or do you need to rest?’ Lucifer asks when they have left the diner. ‘A walk sounds good,’ Sam says. He isn’t ready to go back to the hotel yet. Lucifer leads Sam through the streets, and they come to a small park. They stroll along the paths, coming to a fountain in the center. Lucifer gestures for Sam to sit, and he does, letting his fingers drop into the cool water. It’s dusk, and the park is almost deserted. Birds are roosting, and their song adds to the ambient sounds of the evening.”_

“Well, this is just great,” Dean says. “They’ve gone on a romantic walk. If this is what you mean by things changing, Chuck, you better tell me now, as I need at least a bottle of whiskey in my system before I consider that idea.”

Chuck gives Dean a baleful look, but he doesn’t speak, and Bobby continues to read.

_“Sam looks around him and he wonders how anyone could want to end all this. ‘You’re looking thoughtful,’ Lucifer says. Sam shakes his head. ‘I don’t want to argue.’ Lucifer raises an eyebrow. ‘Now I have to know what you’re thinking.’ Sam sighs. ‘I was just thinking how good this all is and wondering how you could want to end it.’ ‘I don’t want to end the world, Sam,’ Lucifer says.”_

“Hold up!” Dean says. “What the hell? Lucifer is all about the end of the world, right? Or have I missed something?”

“Would you stop interrupting, boy, and just let me read,” Bobby says irritably.

_“‘What about this epic battle between you and Michael that is supposed to tear the world apart.’ Lucifer looks genuinely surprised. ‘I don’t want that. Nothing could grieve me more than to fight my brother.’ ‘But then why do you want me to say yes?’ ‘Because Michael wants the fight, and I have to defend myself. Believe me, Sam. I have no desire to end the world.’”_

“Huh,” Bobby says. “So, what is his deal? You said when Zachariah zapped you to future world that it was screwed to hell.”

“It was,” Dean says.

“Then what’s he saying to Sam?”

Dean shrugs. “You think I know? I’m as clueless in this as you are, Bobby.”

Chuck clears his throat. “Sam is about to answer that question for us.”

_“‘But you want to end humanity.’ Lucifer frowns. ‘Humans... I don’t know what to tell you, Sam.’ ‘I’m human,’ Sam says. ‘Do you want to end me?’ Lucifer looks him deep in the eyes. ‘I want that even less than I want to fight my brother.’ ‘Then why do it? How do you see this ending, Lucifer? Me being the only company for you in your new world, with no other humans, just you and your demons.’ ‘My demons will eventually be destroyed, too.’”_

“That’s new,” Bobby says. “If we could just talk him down from the ending humanity part this sounds like a world I can get behind.”

“No more demons,” Dean says. “Hell, that’s something I could get behind, too.”

“ _Sam raises his hands in frustration. ‘You’re recreating the cage on earth. You will be just as alone.’ Lucifer frowns. ‘If you say yes to me, we will be together forever. We will reside in the same body, your spirit and my own, together.’ ‘And what about what I want?’ Sam asks. ‘What about Dean and Bobby and Cas? I don’t want them to die. Don’t you see? I can never say yes, because that will be their end as well as mine. You will kill them all.’ ‘If I swore that I wouldn’t kill the people you care about, would you say yes?’”_

Bobby broke off and the attention in the room changed palpably. Everyone was tensely awaiting Sam’s response.

_“Sam shakes his head. ‘No, because it’s not just them, Lucifer. It’s everyone. I can’t be responsible for the world’s death. If you think the death of that family broke me...’ The corners of Lucifer’s mouth turn down slightly. He appears in deep thought. He blinks and then looks to his hands, which are clasped in his lap and he sighs. ‘It would tear you apart.’ He is speaking to himself more than to Sam.”_

“Thank crap for that,” Dean says, massaging his chest. “My heart was going a mile a minute there.”

“Mine too,” Bobby says. “Chuck, do us a favor, cut down on the dramatics, huh.”

Chuck smiles. “I’ll do my best, but I am only transcribing what I am seeing happen.” He looks at Dean and there is an apology in his expression. “Before Bobby reads more, just remember that, okay. I don’t control them.”

Dean nods slowly. “You’re kinda worrying me, Chuck.”

Chuck nods. “I know.”

_“That’s the one thing Sam can’t get past. Lucifer knows what it would do to him, but he wants to do it anyway. He thinks he has come to know Lucifer well, especially over the last few days. He sees what kind of man he is, and despite himself, he likes him, but he can’t reconcile that man with the being that wants to end the world. It’s as if Lucifer is two people, one of them held him as he suffered through withdrawal with more care than anyone has ever shown Sam outside of his small family, and the other wants to be the one to tear that family apart.”_

Bobby’s eyes skim down the page and he looks up at Chuck. “Are you serious?”

Chuck nods.

“What? What’s going on?” Dean asks, making a grab at the papers.

In response, Bobby reads aloud. “ _What frightens Sam is the fact that, even knowing what Lucifer is capable of and what he wants to achieve, he sympathizes with him, and he has even come to care for him. That thought makes him feel more than a little ashamed of himself. He wonders what Dean is thinking now.”_

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says breathlessly.

“Calm down,” Bobby says.

“Calm? Seriously, Bobby, you want me to be calm? Did you take in what you just read?”

“Of course, I did.”

“Then what’s there to be calm about? Sam’s not slipping. He’s slipped. He’s going dark side and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.” He turns to Chuck. “Chuck, man, tell me you know where Lucifer has Sam holed up.”

Chuck shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I only know they’re in Detroit area. I don’t know an exact location.”

“What are you thinking?” Castiel asks.

“What the hell do you think I’m thinking?” Dean asks. “I’m finding my brother and getting him out of there before he can say yes.”

“How?” Bobby asks. “Even if we knew where he was, we have no weapon to use against Lucifer. We would be killed before we got within a foot of Sam.”

“Weapon!” Dean slaps his hand down on the desk. “We need the damn Colt.”

“The Colt Bela sold and shipped halfway across the world?”

“Actually...” Chuck raises his hand.

“Yes, that Colt,” Dean says.

“I said actually,” Chuck says.

“And how are we supposed to track it down?” Bobby asks. “That was over a year ago. It could be anywhere by now.”

“Guys,” Chuck says loudly.

“What?” Dean and Bobby snap.

“I know where the Colt is, kinda. Have you ever heard of a demon called Crowley?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the love. We love you back! We want to hug you and squish you and keep you forever.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading.

Lucifer is sitting on the desk chair with his feet crossed at the ankle, watching Sam sleep. It has become somewhat of a routine for him now. He waits until Sam is asleep, then he steals into the room. Sam asleep is very different to Sam awake. He looks different. There’s an openness there, both physical and emotional, when he is sleeping.

During the day, that openness is lost in a mask of strength and solitude. Sam doesn’t ever truly relax when with Lucifer. He is more relaxed than he was in the beginning, but there is still the barrier of Lucifer’s true self that forces him to remain strong, as if he fears the yes will creep out without his constant vigilance.

He looks different, too, almost childlike, despite his size. His features relax and change according to whatever he sees in his dreams. Sometimes they are bad, and Lucifer detests those nights. He hates to see Sam suffering.

Sam sighs and rolls over in his sleep, turning his back on Lucifer. Lucifer is considering relocating so as to be able to see Sam again when he hears a voice call out in the lobby.

“Oh, Lucy, I’m home!”

Lucifer rises to his feet in one swift movement and crosses the room. He checks Sam, but he is still sleeping peacefully. Striding out into the hall, he prepares himself to deal with whichever of his inept demons has decided tonight is the night to die. He makes it to the stairs, and then he stops dead in his tracks.

There is a man standing in the hall. He is short in stature, and he has sandy brown hair that hangs just past his ears. He would be utterly unremarkable if not for _who_ it was. Lucifer recognizes him immediately, despite the fact he is in a vessel. The man looks up and a wide smile creases his face.

Lucifer’s feet carry him down the stairs and to stand in front of his visitor. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel’s smile widens. “Hello, brother.”

Lucifer steps forward and pulls Gabriel into an embrace. Gabriel’s hands fist in the back of Lucifer’s shirt and he tightens against him. For a moment, Lucifer is transported back across the millennia to the last time he saw his brother. When life was good and he was one of Heaven’s brightest. Before his father betrayed them all by creating humanity.

He steps back and cups Gabriel’s face in his hands. “I have missed you, brother.”

“Yeah, me too,” Gabriel says. He twirls, taking in the ornate lobby. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

Lucifer looks around at the embellishments that mean nothing to him. He chose it merely because he thought it would be more comfortable for Sam.

“It serves its purpose,” Lucifer says.

Gabriel’s eyes find Lucifer’s, and he feels that he is pinned beneath their gaze. “And what purpose would that be?”

Lucifer frowns. “You know what I am doing, Gabriel.”

“I know what you _were_ doing,” he corrects. “I also heard that you’ve been working against yourself.”

Lucifer looks at him blankly. He doesn’t understand what Gabriel is talking about. His plans are all in order. Pestilence is still spreading the swine flu virus and there have been promising results from the first experiments with the Croatoan virus. Things are moving along nicely. It’s true that he hasn’t raised Death yet, but that was just because of the demon blood incident. As soon as he is sure Sam is through the ill effects of that, he will move along with that step. Things are right on track. Almost.

“What are you talking about?” Lucifer asks.

“Well, I hear you lopped off Famine’s hand. How are you supposed to use him now he’s an even bigger wreck of a man? Let me guess, he’s curled up in the fetal position, drooling like an idiot.”

Lucifer shrugs nonchalantly. “I wouldn’t know. I sent him away as soon as I was done with him.”

Gabriel laughs. “And yet you say you don’t know what I mean. Lucifer, this is me you’re talking to.”

“I have not forgotten. I accept there have been delays, but that’s all. Besides, how do you know about Famine? Have you been consorting with demons, too?”

Gabriel gives an affected shudder. “Ew, no. I leave that to you, dear brother. I merely paid a visit to some old friends and I got the skinny.”

Lucifer sighs. “You have seen the prophet.”

“I have, and let me tell you, he’s so much more fun than Noah. He’s not obsessed with boatbuilding. In fact, give this guy a bottle of whiskey and a word processor and he’s content.”

Lucifer smiles. “What did he tell you?”

“Him, nothing. I read the scriptures.”

Lucifer looks at him blankly and he smiles.

“It seems the prophet has been writing a chapter for each day Sam has been with you. They have some kind of reading ceremony together. It’s really quite adorable.”

Lucifer had wondered how the prophet was passing on his information. Now he knows. He has to admit, it is an ingenious arrangement. That way they get all the news of Sam. He gives credit to the humans; they are capable of originality.

“I trust you also saw Dean and Mr. Singer.”

“Don’t forget Castiel. Yes, I saw our dear brother, too. Banishment is not suiting him well. He looked to Dean Winchester for orders.”

Lucifer frowns. “That’s a shame. What orders did he ask for?”

“Whether or not to kill me,” Gabriel says, shrugging. “He had his little blade ready and all.” He claps a hand to his chest and speaks in an affected tone. “I feared for my life.”

Lucifer chuckles. It’s been a long time since he has felt amusement outside of what Sam evokes in him, and he’s not surprised that it is Gabriel that is the one to draw laughter from him.

“So, other than ordering angels around and reading what amounts to Sam’s daybook, how are they?”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “Is that concern for humans I hear, Lucifer?”

“Hardly. I am asking for Sam’s benefit. He will be glad of news of them.”

“Is _that_ concern for a human, Lucifer?”

“It’s concern for Sam. He hardly counts as a human. He’s different.”

Gabriel claps his hands. “So I hear. You want to tell me about that?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lucifer says blandly.

Gabriel nudges his shoulder. “‘Course you don’t.”

“Not that I am not pleased to see you, Gabriel, because I am, but did you have a reason for visiting?”

“You fed up with me already?” Gabriel asks, his mouth turning down at the corners. “And after I made the journey here to see you special.”

“What are you doing here, Gabriel?”

“I came to see you, dear brother, and your human. It’s been a while since I saw young Sammy Winchester, and I’d like to catch up.”

“You know Sam?”

Gabriel frowns. “I do, but he has no idea who I really am. As you can see”—he gestures down his body—”I made myself a whole new image, and I came into contact with Sam and his brother along my way. Just a heads up, Sammy might not be too pleased to see me again.”

“What did you do to him, Gabriel?” Lucifer asks, a steel edge to his tone.

“I may have trapped him in a time loop of eternal Tuesdays...”

“Killing Dean every day,” Lucifer finishes for him. “That’s what you did with all the things I taught you, become a trickster. Really, Gabriel, you could have done so much better than that.”

“Hey, no judgment, okay? I did what I had to do to escape. We can’t all create our own kingdoms.”

“Why did you leave Heaven?” Lucifer asks.

“After what you and Michael did to each other, I couldn’t bear it any longer.”

“What I did to him!” Lucifer’s hands fist at his sides. “I did nothing to him. It was he that betrayed me.”

“Cry me a river, Lucifer,” Gabriel says carelessly. “I’ve heard all this before. Play the victim all you want. But you and me? We know the truth. Dad loved you best. More than Michael, more than me. Then he brought the new baby home and you couldn't handle it.”

“Why are you saying this to me now?” Lucifer asks, stung by his brothers words.

“Because you need to hear it, Lucifer. You need to understand that if you are to understand what’s happening to you.”

“What’s happening to me? Nothing is happening to me.”

Gabriel huffs out a breath. “For the Prince of Lies you’re not doing too well.”

“I’m not lying,” Lucifer says, his brow creasing with confusion.

“You are, to me, to yourself, and to Sam.”

Lucifer shakes his head jerkily. “I swore I would never lie to Sam. I don’t know what you read in those pages, but it was not the truth.”

“Chill, bro. I didn’t read anything in those pages that I can’t get from speaking to you.”

Lucifer is genuinely confused now. He hasn’t lied to Sam. Not once. He swore he never would.

“No more games, Gabriel. Tell me what you mean?”

“You do know, don’t you?” Gabriel’s smooth brow furrows. “You don’t!”

“Know what?” Lucifer’s hands fist. “What are you talking about?”

“Tell me about Sam,” Gabriel says.

“What does he have to do with anything?”

“Just do it, Lucifer.”

Lucifer frowns as he tries to find a way explain Sam to Gabriel. He opens his mouth to speak twice before closing it again. Eventually, he sighs. “I don’t know what to say about him.”

“It’s beyond words, right?” Gabriel says.

Lucifer nods. “I don’t understand your implications, but yes, I am finding it hard to find words.”

“Because that’s what love does to you, Lucifer. It steals your words.”

“Love?”

“Yes, Lucifer. You love Sam. You have to know that.”

“I don’t... I mean.” Lucifer runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not possible. I would have known.”

“Knowing or not, you have sacrificed part of your plan already for him. Do you really think there is another explanation?”

Lucifer begins to pace the length of the room, turning things over in his mind. It’s impossible. He cannot love Sam. He would know. How he feels for Sam is nothing like the way he feels about Gabriel or any of his other brothers, and he loves them.

He tells Gabriel as much and he smiles. “There is an ocean of difference between the love you feel for your family and romantic love.”

“Romantic!” Lucifer almost chokes on the word.

“Yes, Lucifer,” Gabriel says patiently. “Romantic. That is what you are feeling. Romantic love.”

“But I...” Lucifer sputters for a moment and then looks imploringly at Gabriel. “I don’t understand.”

Gabriel pats him on the shoulder. “Love is a fickle thing, Lucifer. We don’t get to pick and choose who we love.”

“But Sam’s...”

“A man?” Gabriel asks. “Trust me, that doesn’t matter in this day and age.”

Lucifer frowns. “I was going to say he’s a human. How can I love a human?”

“No idea, but you do, and if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit you’ve known it for quite some time.”

Lucifer thinks. He accepts that there is something different about Sam. He has never felt like this about anyone before. But he never imagined it was love.

Could it be? Is it possible? He examines his feelings for Sam closely. He cares about him. That much he knows. He worries about him. He misses him in the moments they are parted by circumstance or sleep. There is little he wouldn’t do for him, except kill him as he asked in the throes of his withdrawal. He would sacrifice anything Sam asked of him. But love...

“Love,” he says it aloud, testing the word on his tongue.

“Yes, Lucifer, love,” Gabriel says with a smile. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I love Sam.” Again, he is testing the words, but as he speaks them aloud, he knows it’s the truth. He loves Sam. He is doomed to love a human.

“Why the sad face?” Gabriel asks. “This is the good part. You should be all happy that it’s finally clicked.”

“It’s Sam,” Lucifer says. “I love Sam, but how can this ever end happily? I am an angel; he is a man.”

“And I once had a fling with a pagan god. It’s all about sacrifice, Lucifer.”

“You had a fling with a pagan god?” Lucifer asks, his lip curling with disgust.

“Hey now, I’m not the one in love with his meat suit.”

In one swift movement, Lucifer has Gabriel pinned against the wall and his blade at his throat. “That’s Sam you’re talking about.”

“Exactly,” Gabriel says with a laugh. “That heat in your belly, that anger, that’s what love does to you.”

Lucifer releases him and steps back. “I don’t know what to do.”

Gabriel sighs. “It’s simple enough, Lucifer. You go to him and tell him how you feel.”

Lucifer takes a step back. “Tell him?”

Gabriel sighs. “Yes. You have to tell him how you feel. How do you expect anything to progress if you don’t tell him?”

“Progress?”

“If you’re just going to repeat what I say, this conversation is going to get old fast.”

Lucifer huffs. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t tell him. He won’t understand. To him, I’m the Devil. He could never feel the same.”

Gabriel sighs and rests a hand on his arm. “You’re more than the Devil to him, Lucifer. I’ve read the pages. He cares for you.”

“Is that what the prophet thinks?” Lucifer asks.

“It’s what the prophet knows,” Gabriel says. “You understand the connection between prophet and subject; it’s supreme.”

Lucifer allows himself a small smile. “He cares for me.”

Gabriel nods. “He does.”

Lucifer allows the feeling of completeness to fill him. Sam cares for him. It’s a feeling he has never had before. Since he was cast out of heaven, he has had only one thought on his mind: to avenge himself on the humans that were the cause for his fall. Now, he has fallen in love with one, and revenge doesn’t seem so important anymore.

Not now that he has Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! We can't wait to hear what you think!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading!

Sam wakes the next morning feeling infinitely better than he did the night before. He stretches and looks around the room, Lucifer is not there, but Sam knows he’s close, waiting for his call.

He showers and dresses then calls to Lucifer as he is tying his bootlaces.

“Sam,” a soft voice says.

Sam looks up and smiles. “Morning.”

“How are you feeling today?” Lucifer asks.

“Much better,” Sam says. Then he tilts his head to the side and appraises Lucifer. “You look different.”

“I do?” Lucifer looks puzzled. “I haven’t done anything different.” He looks down at his clothes. They are the same clothes he has been wearing for days. Sam realizes that they are the only clothes he has ever seen Lucifer wear, like the suit and trench coat are the only clothes he has ever seen Castiel wear. He wonders at that. Do they never get bored of wearing the same thing? Not that he’s a fashionista himself, of course. He decides to ask Lucifer.

“Do I become bored of wearing these clothes?” Lucifer asks, plucking at his shirt. “I have never considered it before. Are clothes meant to entertain you?”

Sam laughs. “No, it’s just we, humans, change most every day.”

“This is what Nick was wearing when I took him over. Would you prefer it if I wore something different?”

Sam shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t matter to me what you wear. I just wondered.”

Lucifer smiles. “Your curiosity is an intriguing thing, Sam.”

Sam is bemused by this. Lucifer seems to be in an especially light mood today. Perhaps that’s the something different about him.

Shrugging, he gets to his feet and picks up his jacket. “You good for a trip to the diner or do you have other plans?” he asks.

“I would like to accompany you,” Lucifer says. “I have no other plans for today.”

“Great.” Sam grins and opens the door, gesturing Lucifer out ahead of them.

When they get to the diner, they take what has become their usual booth and wait for Shirley to bring them menus. When she has come and taken Sam’s order for eggs and coffee, they are left alone.

Lucifer rests his elbows on the table and cups his chin in his hands. He sits like that, watching Sam as he sits fiddles with the sugar packets. His close scrutiny is starting to make Sam uncomfortable.

“Is something wrong, Lucifer?” he asks.

Lucifer shakes his head as if coming out of a daze. “No, nothing. Why?”

“Because you seem different today. You’re kinda staring, too.”

Lucifer immediately casts his eyes down to the table. “I apologize.”

Sam shrugs. “There’s no reason to apologize. It’s fine.”

Lucifer takes a deep breath, as if readying himself to say something important. “There is actually something I wanted to talk to you about...” he says.

“Fire away,” Sam says.

“I...” He trails off and looks awkward. “I had a visitor last night.”

Sam is sure that’s not what he was going to say, but he’s intrigued nonetheless. “Really, who?”

“My brother, Gabriel.”

“Gabriel, as in _the_ Gabriel. The archangel?” Sam’s mouth is agape.

Lucifer smiles. “Yes. He came to me last night.”

“Wow, that’s just... wow. It must have been good to see him, a real live brother after all this time.”

Lucifer nods. “It was very gratifying.”

“So,” Sam rubs at the back of his neck uncomfortably, “has he joined the cause? Are there two archangels gunning for the earth now?”

“No,” Lucifer says serenely. “He left heaven shortly after my own exile. He has been living concealed among humanity for millennia. I didn’t know. In fact...”

“What?” Sam asks.

“You know him,” Lucifer says. “Though you have only met him under the guise of the Trickster.”

“The Trickster!” Sam chokes on the word. “Him! That... him! He’s your brother?”

Lucifer lays his palm flat on the table. “I know you have good reason to dislike him. I know what he did to you. But he isn’t the monster you believe him to be.”

“He killed Dean!” Sam hisses. “Over and over again. I had to watch him die because of your _brother._ ”

“And he was wrong to do so,” Lucifer says. “But I believe there was a message he was trying to impart.”

“A message. Lucifer, do you have any idea how it felt for me to watch Dean die over and over again, knowing there was nothing I could do?”

Lucifer looks down at the table. “No, I do not. I apologize. I did not mean to trivialize what you went through.”

Sam is breathing heavily, anger still bubbling inside of him. “Do me a favor, Lucifer. If your brother comes by again, keep him away from me.”

Lucifer nods. “As you wish.”

Sam takes a deep breath and relaxes his fisted hands. “Okay.”

“Incidentally, before coming to me, he saw your brother.”

Sam’s heart contracts painfully in his chest. “Dean! Oh God, he’s okay right. He didn’t hurt him?”

His mind races with possibilities. The Trickster could have done anything to Dean and Bobby, and if was an archangel, he could have done something to Cas, too.

“Calm down, Sam,” Lucifer says gently. “Your brother is unharmed. All of them are fine. The only one that came close to being injured was Gabriel. Apparently, your brother shot at him with an unloaded shotgun.”

Sam grins. The Trickster deserved everything he got.

“And he brought me news of your brother,” Lucifer says.

“He did? What did he say?”

“That they are all well and together. Apparently, the prophet has been writing chapters to cover your time with me, so they are well informed.”

Sam nods. Any news of Dean and the others is gratefully accepted. He’s not surprised Chuck has been writing out the pages. It makes sense for him as a writer to be able to share what he sees as chapters. He imagine them all reading about his days with Lucifer and he feels shame creep up on him. He hasn’t exactly been doing his best to overcome Lucifer’s plan lately. They must be so disappointed in him.

Shirley arrives with his food and he thanks her. She casts Lucifer a look of longing, but he doesn’t seem to notice her at all. He is preoccupied with Sam still.

Sam forks up his eggs and waits for Lucifer to speak. He waits a long time. He has finished his meal and is just drinking the dregs of his coffee when Lucifer clears his throat awkwardly.

“Sam, I...”

“Yes?” Sam asks.

Lucifer shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Sam shrugs and get to his feet. Dropping a couple of bills down onto the table, he pulls on his jacket and waits for Lucifer.

They walk back to the hotel together in silence. Sam knows now what there is something Lucifer is hiding, and as they walk, he tries to come up with ideas of what it is. He doesn’t think it’s anything to do with Dean, as he would have said it already. He has almost convinced himself that it’s something about the looming apocalypse that he thinks will upset Sam to hear. He has braced himself for bad news by the time he gets to the hotel, and when they reach the room, he’s decided to question Lucifer until he talks. That is a very naive plan, of course, and he knows it. Lucifer will talk when he’s good and ready, and nothing Sam can say or do will change that.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long. He toes off his boots and then flops down onto the bed, when Lucifer speaks.

“So, Sam, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I figured,” Sam says. “Go ahead.”

“Well, there is something we need to discuss, and the diner wasn’t the right place to do it, and now we are here, and...” He rubs at the back of his neck.

Sam has never seen Lucifer like this before. He looks nervous.

“The thing is...”

Sam sits up. “Lucifer, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Lucifer says.

Sam raises an eyebrow. Something is obviously wrong.

Lucifer draws a deep breath and fixes his eyes on a spot a foot above Sam’s head. “Things have changed for me since you came to be here. I have found myself changing in ways I didn’t think were possible. I am different because of you.”

Sam sits back against the headboard and looks at Lucifer. He doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say, but it sounds positive so far, at least to him it does.

“I didn’t understand these changes until I spoke to my brother. He explained them to me.”

Sam nods. “Is that a good thing?”

“I believe it is good. It is all very dependent on you.”

“Me?”

Lucifer’s lips curve into a reluctant smile. “Yes, Sam, you. You see, these changed feeling are all focused on you. I have come to care for you. You are special to me.”

This is nothing Sam hasn’t heard before. He is special to Lucifer, of course he is. He’s Lucifer’s vessel. His weapon against Michael. Perhaps it’s just his imagination, but he thought Lucifer was coming to value him as a person, too. As much as someone that hates humanity can value a human. This was all good news as far as Sam was concerned. He has, against his will, come to care for the fallen angel, too.

Lucifer stares at Sam as if expecting some reaction. Sam wants to oblige, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m confused, Lucifer. You’re saying you care about me?”

Lucifer nods, looking pleased. “Yes.”

“Well, that’s great,” Sam says.

“It is?”

“Sure. Dean is gonna kick my ass six ways from Sunday for this, but I’ve come to see you differently, too.”

“You have?”

“Yeah,” Sam rubs at the back of his neck. “I’d call you a friend, but I’m not sure that’s the right word for it.”

“Friend?” Lucifer looks downcast. He looks out of the window for a moment, clearly thinking hard. When he looks back at Sam, there is steely determination in his eyes.

“I love you, Sam. I do not merely care for you. I love you. I am _in_ love with you.”

Sam gapes at him, open-mouthed. He gets up from the bed and paces up and down the room, passing Lucifer on every turn. His mind is reeling. Lucifer, Satan, the Devil himself has just announced that he’s in love with him. Things like that don’t just happen!

He pauses in his pacing, looks at Lucifer and opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again. He makes one more pass up the room before Lucifer speaks softly.

“Sam, please.”

“This is not okay,” Sam says abruptly. “Lucifer, really, whatever you’re thinking, this is not okay. I don’t know how you think this is going to get you a yes, but it’s wrong. You can’t just say stuff like that to a person. You can’t do that.”

“I assure you, Sam, I am not trying to manipulate you here. I am being honest. I am in love with you.”

Sam feels like he has been punched in the gut. Lucifer truly means it. He genuinely loves Sam. He doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know what to think. He’s struggling to remember how to breathe.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” Lucifer says. “That was not my intent.”

Sam shakes his head mutely. Still unable to process thought enough to articulate words.

“I shall leave you,” Lucifer says.

Sam croaks, but no words come. Dammit, why won’t his brain work? He needs to say something. To do something.

Lucifer gives him one last searching look, and then he is gone.

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispers. His mouth finally works, but it’s too late.

Outside, there is a flash of lightning and rain begins to pelt the windows.

xXx

Lucifer materializes in the park he and Sam visited the day before. The rain lashes down and thunder rumbles. A fork of lightning hits a tree and it bursts into flames.

The fire reflects in Lucifer’s eyes as he gazes at it. There is something so beautifully simple about the destructiveness of fire that appeals to him. It reminds him of love. Love destroys. It almost destroyed him.

To think that a human almost undid all his hard work. He had almost given it all up for Sam. He had lost one horseman to his infatuation, as he hadn’t been able to watch Sam’s suffering, but it would not happen again. Famine and War were gone, but Pestilence still lived, and he was working towards the cause. Death must come next. Lucifer would bring him into being, and he would wreak havoc across the world. His first port of call would be Sioux Falls. Mr. Singer would no longer be protected; he would have a taste of Lucifer’s power. And from Sioux Falls... the world.

There was a soft rustling sound, and Lucifer knew before he turned who it would be.

“Hate to interrupt the temper tantrum, but you might want to calm down before you set fire to the town. There are already three house fires because of your lightning.”

“I am not in the mood for this, Gabriel.”

“Too bad,” Gabriel says, stepping around to face him. “‘Cause you’re gonna hear it.”

“Gabriel,” Lucifer says in a warning tone.

“I take it things with Sam didn’t go well.”

“You ask as though you don’t already know. Did you know that he cared nothing for me before you sent me to him or was it a lucky guess?”

“I told you what I knew, Lucifer,” Gabriel says. “Sam cares for you.”

Lucifer speaks through gritted teeth. “I find that hard to believe given his reaction.”

“What did he say?”

“He accused me of trying to manipulate him.”

Gabriel nods. “Not unexpected given your past. What else?”

“Not unexpected? Gabriel, I have sworn never to lie to Sam, and I have kept that vow. I would not manipulate him. I would—”

“You manipulated him into giving up his freedom for his brother’s protection,” Gabriel says flatly. “You even used hellhounds, knowing the connotations they had for both Sam and Dean. That was a low blow.”

Lucifer doesn’t want to hear this. “Do you come for a specific reason or are you merely here to aggravate me?” he asks.

“I am here to stop you making a big mistake. I know you, and I know you are preparing yourself to do something stupid.”

“You don’t know me anymore, brother,” Lucifer says. “I am well aware of what I am doing, and it’s not a mistake.”

Gabriel taps his chin. “So, you aren't about to amp up your plans for the end of the world?”

“I am doing nothing I wasn’t intending to do before this whole debacle started.” That’s true. He has always intended to raise Death, and he had wanted to send a message to Sam and Dean via Mr. Singer before the idea to entrap Sam came to him. He was working within the plans he already had.

“Lucifer...” Gabriel paused as a lightning bolt hit another tree near them. “Will you stop that? You are going to take down the whole town at the rate you are going.”

Thinking only of the safety of his vessel, he cares nothing for other humans, Lucifer stops his assault on nature and the storm fades.

“That’s better,” Gabriel says, sighing. “Now, tell me exactly what happened.”

“I will not,” Lucifer says firmly. “You have already meddled in my life enough, Gabriel. I will not aid you to do it again.”

“Lucifer,” Gabriel says softly, reaching out a hand to him.

Lucifer backs away before he can make contact. “You have done enough, Gabriel. I have no need of your company now.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” Gabriel says warningly.

“Thank you, Gabriel. That will be all.” Lucifer says coolly.

Gabriel throws his arms up. “Fine, but don’t come to me when you need help fixing this mess. Just know you did this to yourself.”

Lucifer merely glares at him, and a moment later, Gabriel is gone.

Lucifer fists his hands at his sides and creates a mental barricade around the conversation. He does the same to his confession to Sam. If he doesn’t think of them, then they didn’t happen.

With the rain drizzling down around him, he closes his eyes and heads to Carthage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the love. We love you back!!!!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading!

“Crowley?” Dean asks.

Chuck looks incredulous. “Didn’t you read _Time Is On My Side_?”

“No, Chuck,” Dean says bitterly. “I lived it.”

“Oh, right... yeah.” Chuck laughs nervously. “Bela said she gave the Colt to Lilith, right?”

Dean scowls as he remembers. “Yeah.”

“Well, she lied. She gave the Colt to a demon called Crowley.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this before?” Bobby asks in a strained voice.

Chuck shrugs. “It never came up.”

Dean bites back his anger and tries to speak in a level tone. “So, tell us about Crowley. Who is he?”

“He’s the King of the Crossroads. He was Lilith’s right hand man before Sam… you know.”

“Iced the bitch?” Dean offers.

Chuck nods. “Yes, that.”

“So, this Crowley, he has the Colt?” Bobby asks.

“I think so. He was the last person to have it that I know about.”

Dean claps his hands together. “This is awesome. We have a weapon.”

“We have the possibility of a weapon,” Castiel says. “And no definite idea of whether or not it would work.”

“Way to be a buzzkill, Cas,” Dean says. “This is the first bit of good news we’ve had in weeks and you go and steal all the fun out of it.”

Castiel looks apologetic.

“You know where to find this Crowley, Chuck?” Dean asks.

Chuck shakes his head. “Sorry, no.”

“Not a problem,” Dean says confidently. “He’s King of the Crossroads, right. All we gotta do is find ourselves a crossroads.”

Bobby looks reluctant. “I don’t know, Dean…”

“Relax. I’m not planning on making a deal. I’ll go, take Castiel with me, he can shazam us back here, and I can get the demon talking.”

He’s excited at the prospect. With Castiel on side, this is positively easy. They can get the demon talking, and find out where Crowley is. Then it’s just a case of getting hold of him and squeezing till he hands over the Colt. Then, finally, they will have a weapon against Lucifer. They can ice him, get Sam back, and all will be good again. No more reading pages and panicking, no more apocalypse, no more vessels. It will be all over.

“Don’t go getting away from yourself,” Bobby says soberly. “We’ve got to find this Crowley first, and then persuade him to give up the Colt, which, as it can kill _him_ , he’s unlikely to do.”

“He doesn’t want to hand over the gun, I’ll make him,” Dean says simply.

Bobby nods, and Dean knows he understands. Dean will torture the location of the Colt out of Crowley. He doesn’t want to do it, but desperate times call for desperate measures. This is the end of the world they are facing, and Sam is slipping away. 

“You good for this, Cas?” Dean asks, raising his brows.

Castiel nods. “I will aid you in whatever way I can.”

“You guys best get the panic room set up then,” Bobby says. “Sounds like we’re going to have company.”

Dean claps Chuck on the shoulder. “Thanks for this, Chuck. You’ve come through for us yet again.”

Chuck nods. “I just hope it works.”

“Don’t worry, it will,” Dean says, walking out of the room and down to the basement.

xXx

Dean crouches in the dirt at the crossroads and buries the small tin in the ground. He never thought he would be here again, summoning a crossroad demon, but he has no regrets; it’s worth it to get the Colt back. Castiel is waiting out of sight, ready for Dean’s call.

He stamps down the dirt and steps back, waiting for the demon to arrive. The first sign of its coming is soft footsteps and then a feminine laugh.

“Dean Winchester, you cannot be serious.”

Dean turns and sees the demon. It is a woman with long dark hair. She would be beautiful if not for her crimson eyes.

Dean nods at her. “I’m deadly serious.”

“You want to make a deal? You? After what happened last time... What’s the matter, Dean, you missing the hellfires of home already?”

“Something like that,” Dean says.

“Well, too bad. We’re all sworn off making deals with Winchesters after your dramatic rescue. So, unless there’s anything else I can do for you, I’m going to have to say goodbye.”

“Actually,” Dean says, “there is something you can do for me. You can scream really loud. Cas!”

The demon looks puzzled, and then Castiel is there. He grips her around the arm, and a moment later, they are back in Bobby’s panic room. Castiel manhandles the demon into the chair Dean set in the center of the room, and Dean wraps rope around her, binding her to the chair.

“What are you doing?” the demon hisses, bucking and testing the restraints.

“Relax,” Dean says. “We’re not going to hurt you. Unless you refuse to tell us what we want to know, of course, then we’ll hurt you a lot.”

The demon tilts her head to the side. “What do you want to know?”

“It’s more a need really,” Dean says conversationally. “You see, we’re looking for your boss.” Dean walks in a circle around her.

She looks over her shoulder at him. “I have no boss.”

“That’s not what we hear. Word has it that you boss is a guy called Crowley. We need to speak to him.” Dean walks over to stand in front of her.

 “Crowley? Never heard of him.” She shrugs.

“Now that’s a real shame,” Dean says, crossing the room and picking up a bottle of holy water. He uncaps the bottle and raises it above the demon’s head. “I didn’t want to do this.” He tips his hand and the demon is showered in the water. Her skin hisses and sizzles and smoke rises around her. She throws back her head and shrieks.

Dean steps back. “So, I’m going to ask again, where is Crowley?”

“I don’t know,” the demon says.

Dean steps back to the table and picks up the demon blade. “Do you know what this is?”

The demon nods jerkily.

“Then you know what it will do. Unless you tell me what I want to know, I am going to drive this knife into your leg. It won’t kill you, but it sure will hurt.”

The demon smirks. “You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t want to hurt this meatsuit. She’s a good girl, a librarian, you know. Her name’s Lucy.”

Dean steps forward and leans into the demon’s face. “That’s where you are wrong.”

He slams his hand down, driving the knife deep into the demon’s leg. She screams out

xXx

Dean stalks in a circle around the bound demon, his lip curled with disgust. It is wearing a a young girl, pretty and blonde. Innocent looking, which he guesses is probably why she was chosen. Who would distrust this face?

“Tell us where Crowley is,” Dean says for what feels like the hundredth time.

“I don’t know!” the demon says again.

“Bullshit!” Dean snaps. “You’re one of his crossroads demons. You have to know.”

“It’s not like he throws cocktails parties for us,” the demon says. “He’s the boss. When he wants us, he finds us. We don’t get to call on him.”

Dean takes the flask of holy water from his pocket and splashes a few drops onto her exposed skin. She shrieks in pain. He reaches for the knife when Castiel steps forward and clears his throat. 

“I don’t believe she knows, Dean.”

Dean sighs and steps back from the demon, wiping his bloodied hands on his jeans. “You’re right. Take her back where we found her and work your mojo on her.”

Castiel nods and reaches for the demon. With a soft fluttering sound, they are both gone.

Dean kicks at the chair in frustration. This is the third demon they have interrogated, and they have come no closer to finding this Crowley guy. He’s exhausted and hungry. He’s been at it for eighteen hours now, refusing to sleep until he has found the right demon. 

He leaves the panic room and plods up the stairs to the study. Chuck’s computer is dark and silent, its owner is doing the sensible thing, sleeping. Bobby is awake, though. He’s sitting at the desk with a book open in front of him and a tumbler of whiskey.

He looks up as Dean enters. “How’s it going down there?”

“Nothing doing yet. We’ll find him, though. Someone had to know where he is.”

Bobby nods. “I know you will.” He glances at the clock. “You going to get some sleep or are you still laboring under the disillusion that you’re superhuman?”

Dean rakes a hand over his face, rubbing at his tired eyes. “I’ll sleep when we find Crowley.” 

“Really, that’s nice and dramatic and all, but how exactly are you going to find me?” a dry voice says behind them.

Dean spins on his heel and comes face to face with a average-height man with short dark hair. He is wearing a black suit and overcoat and is smirking.

He opens his mouth to speak again, but suddenly, the room begins to quake, the pictures on the wall rattle and the books begin to shake from the shelves.

“That’s my cue to leave,” the man says. “I’ll be right back.” And then Crowley is gone.

The room continues to quake, and the lights flicker.

“What’s going on?” Bobby shouts over the rumble of the room.

“I have a feeling we’re about to have another visitor,” Dean calls back.

There is movement at the door, and Chuck stumbles in, rubbing at his eyes. “What’s happening?”

In answer, the room quakes even harder, and a man enters. Dean recognizes him at once, and he’s glad Castiel isn’t there. It’s Raphael, and he looks pissed.

“Prophet,” he says addressing Chuck, “we are leaving.”

“What? No!” Chuck says breathlessly.

“I have borne the fallen angel and the other humans as they have been dedicated to protecting you, but demons! This place is not safe for you anymore. We are leaving.”

Chuck shakes his head. “No, but I’m not ready,”

“I am making the choice for you,” Raphael says. “You must be protected.”

“But wait! There’s something I need to tell them.”

It apparently doesn’t matter to Raphael. He steps forward and grips Chuck’s arm, and a with a fluttering sound, they are gone.

Dean stares at the spot Chuck was standing, his mouth agape. He can’t believe that just happened. Damn Raphael and his timing. Why couldn’t he have waited five more minutes? Then they could have heard what was so important. Was Sam okay? Had something happened to him? Dean has a hundred questions but no way of answering them. His fear for Sam is dominant.

“Has he gone?” Dean turns and sees the man he assumes is Crowley. “That was close,” he says tugging at his collar. “Damn archangels, they make my skin crawl.”

“So, you’re Crowley,” Bobby says.

“I am indeed. Smart one, aren’t ya. Now, I hear you boys have been looking for me.”

Dean nods. He steps back, hoping Crowley will come forward. There is a devil’s trap on the ceiling and if he can just get him to take one more step forward...

Crowley’s eyes move slowly to the ceiling, and he smirks at Dean. “Nice try, petal, but I’m not an idiot.”

Dean sighs. They’re screwed. Castiel isn’t there to wrestle him down to the panic room, and Dean might as well throw pillows at him as try to do it himself.

“Now, now, don’t be getting downhearted. I’m here of my own free will, aren’t I? There’s no need to go trapping me.”

“And why are you here?” Bobby asks.

“Because I want to help, you blithering idiot.” He reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out the Colt. “This is it, right? This is what it's all about. Do you know how deep I could have buried this thing? There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists, except that I told you.”

“You told us?” Bobby says skeptically.

Crowley rolls his eyes. “Rumors, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine.”

“Why?” Dean asks. “Why tell us anything?”

Crowley raises the gun and points it directly at Dean. “I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face.”

Dean doesn’t betray the fear he feels having the gun pointing at him “Uh-huh, okay, and why exactly would you want the devil dead?”

“It's called survival.” Crowley lowers the gun.

“Survival?”

“Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're just filthy bags of pus. If that's the way he feels about you, what can he think about us?”

“But he created you,” Bobby says.

“To him, we're just servants. Cannon fodder. If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we're next. So, help me, huh? Let's all go back to simpler, better times, back to when we could all follow our natures. I'm in sales, dammit! So what do you say if I give you this thing, and you go kill the Devil?”

He turns the gun and holds it by the barrel. Dean steps forward hesitantly and takes the handle. “Great,” he says.

Crowley grins. “Great.”

“You wouldn't happen to know where the Devil is, by chance, would you?“

Crowley sighs. “Do I have to do everything for you? Don’t answer that. It was a rhetorical question. He’s holed up at the Townsend Hotel in Birmingham, Michigan. I hear him and your brother have a suite there.”

Bobby and Dean exchange a look and nod.

“Great,” Bobby says.

Dean raises the gun and points the barrel between Crowley’s eyes. He pulls the trigger but it snaps on an empty barrel. He looks at the gun, surprised.

Crowley doesn’t look at all surprised at their attempt on his life. “Oh, yeah, right, you'll probably need some more ammunition.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out a leather case. He tosses it to Bobby who snaps it open. It’s full of bullets.

Dean clears his throat. “Oh, uh, excuse me for asking, but aren't you kind of signing your own death warrant? I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the Devil and lose?”

“Number one, he's going to wipe us all out anyway. Two, after I leave here, I go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere. And three, how about you don't miss, okay! Moron!”

That said, he casts them one last scathing look and disappears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again. We love you. You’re all awesome and amazing. Thank you so much, snarks and clowns


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading!

They are prepared if not ready. The Colt is tucked into the back of Dean’s pants, and Castiel is armed with his bottle of holy oil. There is nothing else to do but leave. Unfortunately, Bobby has other ideas

“C'mon, Bobby,” Dean says. “I don't want my picture taken.”

“That’s hard luck,” Bobby says. “I need something to remember your sorry asses by.”

Castiel nods serenely. “He’s right. We go to hunt the Devil. Today is our last day on earth.”

“Well, gee, Cas, way to bring the mood down,” Dean says.

“Shut up and smile,” Bobby says, wheeling himself back into the camera’s viewfinder.

Dean grits his teeth, Castiel watches Dean, and Bobby smiles. The camera flashes and the picture is taken.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Bobby says, picking up his camera.

Dean shoulders his duffel and downs the last of his glass of whiskey. “We’ll see you later, Bobby.”

“I sure hope so,” Bobby says.

Dean stops with a hand on the door. “Listen to me, we’ll be back, and we’ll have Sam with us. No one is dying tonight.”

“When did you become an optimist?” Castiel asks curiously.

“This isn’t optimism, Cas, it’s fact. We’re icing Lucifer and getting Sam back today.”

Bobby nods. “I believe you. Now, go get him.”

Dean’s hand turns on the door and Bobby calls out to Dean once more. “And, Dean, go easy on him, okay?”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Satan?”

“No, you nitwit, your brother. I know you’re not happy about what you’ve read, but remember he’s been through a lot.”

Dean has never needed Bobby’s advice less. He isn’t remotely happy about what he’s read lately, but he understands it’s not Sam’s fault. He’s got some kind of Devil induced Stockholm syndrome. They just need to get him away from Lucifer, and he’ll be fine again.

“Don’t worry. Bobby. I’ll take care of him.”

They go out to the car, and Castiel climbs into the passenger seat, Sam’s seat. Though no one has questioned it, Dean said they would drive across to Michigan. His reasoning is simple, for all his words to Bobby and Castiel, he knows there is a very real risk one or both of them may not be making the return journey, and he wants one last ride in the Impala before they go.

Dean flicks the radio on and the familiar strains of Metallica come through the speakers. It’s familiar and comforting, and home, except there is something wrong. His eyes slide sideways to see Castiel and he recognizes that there is still something missing, someone. Consoling himself with the fact they are on their way to rescue Sam now, Dean turns the key and the engine rumbles to life. He pulls out of the garage and winds his way through the stacks of junkers. As they pull out onto the road, he presses the horn once to signal to Bobby that they are on their way.

xXx

Sam lies on the bed and stares up at the clean, white ceiling. He almost wishes for the old motel with its familiar water stain. Things were easier then, when his captor was the Devil and the enemy. Now, things are all so confusing. He has seen the other side to Lucifer, and he cares about him. That was okay until Lucifer decided to announce that he was in love with Sam and mess it all up.

Why did he have to declare himself? Things were good before that. Now Sam is confused, and the worst part is that he has lost his friend. Lucifer is back in the hotel, Sam has heard him talking to the demons, but he hasn’t come to Sam, and Sam is too ashamed of himself to pray to him.

He should have said something to Lucifer. He shouldn’t have let it go like that. Lucifer had laid himself bare, and all Sam had been able to do was to gape at him.

There is a knock at the door, and he lurches to his feet and swings it open, hoping to see Lucifer. It’s a demon standing on the other side, though, and she is bearing a covered plate.

“What’s that?” Sam asks.

“Your dinner,” the demon says.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” Sam starts to close the door, but the demon puts her foot in the way.

“Lucifer would like you to eat this.”

“Lucifer can come tell me that himself,” Sam says.

The demon rolls her eyes. “The time for long walks to the diner with Lucifer is over, Winchester. You need to learn your place. You are a prisoner, and that’s all you are.”

Sam forcibly pushes her away, knocking the tray to the floor, and slams the door shut.

He throws himself back down on the bed, and his thoughts drift to Dean. What is he thinking now? And Bobby and Cas... and Chuck? How exactly do Chuck’s prophecies work? Can he tell what Sam is thinking and feeling? Does he know, do they _all_ know that Sam is falling for the Devil? Because Sam is very afraid that’s what’s happening. He knows he cares for Lucifer, but it feels like something more, something that scares him.

Sam’s hands come up to tangle in his hair, and his fingers tug at the strands. When did everything get so complicated? He would give almost anything to be back at Bobby’s right now, with him and Dean and Castiel. If he was there, he would be plotting to fight Lucifer, and things would be normal again.

He pushes himself to a sitting position and leans back against the headboard. He needs to speak to Lucifer. If they could just talk, maybe Sam could make sense of things again.

“Lucifer,” he says hesitantly. “I need to talk to you.”

He waits, but there is no fluttering sound and no second presence in the room.

“Lucifer, please. I’m sorry for what happened. You need to let me explain.”

There is nothing. Lucifer isn’t coming. Sam groans. What is he supposed to do if the angel won’t even talk to him?

Irritation surges through him. If the demon is acting on Lucifer’s orders, that means Sam is apparently going back to being a prisoner. Screw that. If Lucifer wants to be his captor again, he can come and do it. Sam isn’t taking orders from demons.

He gets up from the bed and shoves his feet into his boots. Grabbing his jacket, he flings open the door and strides out onto the hall. No one stops him as he marches down the stairs and into the lobby, but as his fingers close around the handle of the main door, a voice calls out behind him.

“Going somewhere, Winchester?”

Sam turns and sees the demon that brought him his meal. “Yes,” he says. “I’m going out for something to eat. You got a problem with that?”

“Lucifer would prefer it if you stayed in the hotel from now on,” the demon says.

“Then Lucifer can tell me that himself,” Sam snaps. “I’m going out. Are you going to stop me?”

The demon merely watches Sam as he opens the door and steps outside.

“That’s what I thought,” he says. He allows the door to swing closed behind him and makes his way down the street to the diner.

If Lucifer wants to ignore him, that’s fine, but Sam refuses to be treated like a prisoner. Not now he knows the truth.

xXx

There is a tap at the door, and Lucifer looks up. “Enter.”

The demon, Charice he thinks she calls herself, comes in carrying to full jugs of blood. She sets them down on the table and then clears her throat. “Sam Winchester has left the hotel.”

Lucifer nods. He was aware of it already; he’d heard her exchange with Sam in the lobby. Angelic hearing doesn’t miss much.

“I tried to stop him,” she says, “but...”

“My orders were explicit,” Lucifer finishes for her. “That’s okay. He will return.”

He trusts in that. Sam would not just leave, no matter how he feels about Lucifer and his confession. His care for his brother’s life matters more.

“You can leave me.”

The demon bows her head and steps back out of the room.

Alone again, Lucifer goes to the table and picks up one of the jugs of blood sitting there. Bringing it to his lips, he swallows it down quickly. He has never enjoyed drinking the blood, but since things became complicated with Sam, he hates it. It feels like a betrayal to Sam to drink it. After watching Sam suffer through the days of withdrawal, even having it in the hotel feels wrong. He has no choice, though; he has to sustain the vessel, and the vessel demands blood. He tells himself that it shouldn’t matter now that Sam has made it clear that he doesn’t return Lucifer’s feelings, but it does matter. He supposes it’s part of the fickle state of love.

It is that same fickle state that has stopped him going to Sam. He has heard his prayers, but he hasn’t responded, as he can’t bring himself to look at Sam and know that he has made a fool of himself. He has never been made to feel weakened like this before. He has always felt strong, even as he was forced into the cage by Michael, but Sam made him feel weak.

He drinks the last of the blood and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

He gets up and goes to the window, staring out at the street below. Sam is nowhere in sight; he will have reached the diner already. Lucifer imagines him sitting there, chatting with the waitress that seems so keen on him. If he hadn’t destroyed it all by following Gabriel’s advice and declaring himself, he would have been there, too. He could be talking with Sam and enjoying Sam’s company without any of these complications.

That’s not to say he hasn’t seen Sam since his confession. When he returned from his work in Carthage, he crept into Sam’s room while he was still sleeping, just to ensure he was safe. He had stayed until Sam started to stir, and then he had slipped away.

He hears a rumble coming from further down the street and his attention is piqued. So is that of his demons. They become restless. He can hear their voices from his room. The demon that brought him the blood before comes rushing into the room without knocking.

“Dean Winchester,” she says in a rush.

“What about him?” Lucifer asks.

“He’s coming here.”

He frowns. Dean Winchester, here, this cannot end well. He wonders what harebrained scheme has brought Dean here today. What weapon does he think he has that can possibly threaten Lucifer?

He cannot kill Dean, it would destroy Sam, but on the same breath, he cannot allow Dean to take Sam away. What is he supposed to do?

From the window, Lucifer sees a black car cruise to a stop outside the hotel. Lucifer knows little and cares less about human transportation, but he has to admit there is a raw beauty to this machine. He can understand why Sam would be attached to it.

From the car, climb two figures. One he recognizes as Dean, and the other his fallen brother Castiel. They exchange a look and then step up to the hotel doors.

“Lucifer, what do we do?” the demon asks. Lucifer had forgotten her presence until that moment.

“Do nothing,” he says. “They are to be unharmed.”

She nods and hurries from the room. Lucifer considers his options. He can kill Dean and Castiel and lose Sam forever or he can allow them to leave unharmed on the condition that Sam stays here. Lucifer may not be able to face being in the waking Sam’s presence at the moment, but he doesn’t want him to go away either. Or perhaps he should let him go, too. It would pain him, but perhaps that’s what love means, pain. So far, he has seen nothing to contradict that theory.

“Lucifer, you son of a bitch, where are you?” a loud and uncouth voice calls from the hotel lobby.

Knowing that there is nothing left to do but face them, Lucifer materializes in the lobby, directly opposite Dean. “Hello, Dean,” he says softly.

Dean starts and jumps back a few paces. From behind him, he pulls a gun. It’s old, very old, and yet in fine condition. Lucifer has heard of this gun, it’s reported to kill anything, dead. Unfortunately for Dean and thankfully for Lucifer, he is one of only five things the gun won’t kill.

Castiel raises his hand, and Lucifer sees a bottle containing what he guesses is holy oil with a rag sticking out of the top of it. Lucifer smiles. “I don’t think so, brother.” He clicks his fingers and banishes Castiel from the state. It will take him a few minutes to find a way back in.

“Now, Dean,” Lucifer says. “Why don’t you put that fine gun down and you and I can have a chat.”

“I’m not putting anything down,” Dean snarls. “Not till you’re dead.

Lucifer tilts his head to the side. “Really, you are going to kill me already? Without asking me any of those questions that are burning in you.”

“Where’s my brother?”

“He is currently dining at the charming diner around the corner. Would you like to see him?”

“I’ll see him soon enough,” Dean says.

Lucifer nods. “As you wish. Is there nothing I can do to persuade you to reconsider? I have hoped for some time that we could meet and speak. You are almost as fascinating to me as your brother is.”

Dean’s jaw tightens. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Lucifer opens his arms wide, presenting a target. “Very well.”

xXx

As Sam strolls around the corner heading back to the hotel, he sees a flash of chrome and shiny black paint. He stops dead in his tracks and tries to rationalize what he’s seeing. It can’t be the Impala. The Impala is in South Dakota with Dean and Bobby and Cas, isn’t it?

His legs carry him forward, and he lays a hand on the smooth, polished metal of the hood. It is Dean’s car, there is no question, which means Dean is here too. Fear grips Sam and it feels like a lead weight has slipped into his stomach. Dean is here with Lucifer. He’ll be killed!

He runs down the street and flings open the doors of the lobby. He sees Dean at once. He is standing to the right of the doors, facing Lucifer. Scattered around the room are demons, and Dean is facing them all alone Sam drinks in the sight of Dean, absorbing him after weeks apart.  Then he takes notice of what is in Dean’s hand. It’s the Colt and it’s aimed at Lucifer. The Colt! The word sends a shiver of some unknown emotion through Sam. The Colt is said to kill anything; will it work on Lucifer? Lucifer who is standing with his arms spread wide, as if making himself as large a target as possible.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asks.

“Finishing this,” Dean says through gritted teeth. “Finishing him once and for all.”

“Go upstairs, Sam,” Lucifer says in his softest tone. “Your brother will be fine. Go upstairs.”

Sam shakes his head. He’s not leaving them, not for anything. He has to make Dean see that this is a mistake. He can’t let him kill Lucifer.

“Please, Sam,” Lucifer implores.

“Shut it, you,” Dean snaps. “Sammy, get behind me.”

Sam steps forward to stand between them. “Dean, put the gun down.”

Dean shakes his head jerkily.

“Sam.” Lucifer is speaking now, and he doesn’t sound like himself.

Sam turns to the side so he can see Lucifer while keeping Dean in his view. He looks into Lucifer’s eyes, and he sees fear there. That can only mean one thing: Lucifer knows the gun will work on him.

Fear curls around Sam, holding him in its icy clutches. He can’t let Lucifer die. He just can’t. He cares too much. He loves him…

And there it is. The thought he has been fighting away since Lucifer’s confession. He has fallen in love with the Devil and there is nothing he can do about it.

“Sam,” Lucifer says softly. “Please.”

Sam shakes his head and steps forward to stand directly in front of him. He turns and looks into Dean’s eyes. “I can’t let you kill him, Dean.”

“Dammit, Sammy,” Dean says. “Get out of the way.”

 Sam shakes his head. “He’s not what you think.”

Dean sighs and lowers the gun slightly. It is now pointing at Sam’s chest. “Sam, I know you’re confused right now, but you need to get out of the way. I’m doing this.”

“I can’t,” Sam says simply.

“Sam, please,” Dean says imploringly.

“You want to kill him, you have to kill me, too.”

“Don’t do this,” Dean says and he looks near tears. “We’re so close to ending it, Sam. Can’t you see that? We can end this here and now.”

“I can’t let you,” Sam says firmly.

Then it happens, so fast Sam doesn’t quite understand how it happened.

Dean is looking into his eyes, and Sam is trying to communicate his need, when the demon moves. It lurches forward, ignoring Lucifer’s shouted warning, and tackles Dean.

There is a harsh cracking sound, and then the room is deadly silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bwahahahah! We’re evil, huh? Please let us know what you think. We love you all. Hugs, Snarks and Clowns


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading!

Sam hears the harsh crack ring out and the deadly silence that follows, and his heart sinks. He turns and grips Lucifer’s shoulders.

“Are you okay?” he asks, raking Lucifer’s form for a sign of injury, but there is none.

Lucifer looks horrified. His hands grip Sam’s elbows. “Are you?”

Sam is already turning, if Lucifer wasn’t hit, then it must have been Dean. But Dean seems okay, too. He is standing against the wall, with the gun in his hand but pointing at the floor. He is sharing Lucifer’s horror-struck expression, though.

Finally, Sam looks down, and he sees the dark stain blossoming over his shirt.

“Oh,” he says tonelessly.

With understanding, comes pain. It feels like a white hot poker is pressing down on his chest. His knees buckle, and he falls forward onto Lucifer. Lucifer catches him and eases him down to the floor. Sam’s head falls back to rest in the crook of Lucifer’s elbow. Everything feels slightly out of focus, sounds and sights seem to be seen through a mist. The pain is bad, but that too feels disconnected from him.

Someone is shouting his name, and he forces himself to pay attention. It’s Dean. His head turns against Lucifer’s arm, and he finds Dean with his eyes. He is either frozen in place by shock or Lucifer’s influence, Sam isn’t sure which, but he is on the other side of the lobby and he isn’t moving away from the wall.

“Sammy!” Dean shouts again.

 Sam tries to respond, but there is something in his throat blocking the words. He coughs, and blood spatters down his chin.

“Sam,” Lucifer says in a crooning voice.

“‘S’okay,” Sam says weakly. “M’fine.”

He looks from Dean into Lucifer’s eyes and there he is lost. There is desperate sadness there and building anger.

“Don’t hurt him, please,” Sam begs.

“He shot you!” Lucifer says coldly.

“It was an accident.” Sam draws a painful breath. “Like the rib.”

“Why did you get in the way?” Lucifer asks in a moan.

“Because I had to,” Sam says breathlessly. “I couldn’t let him kill you.”

Lucifer brushes the hair out of Sam’s eyes with exceptional gentleness. “You fool.”

Sam nods, and his breath hitches. “Maybe.”

He coughs again, and blood runs down his chin. He can hear a bubbling sound as he breathes, and he knows what that means. The bullet hit a lung, and he will drown on his own blood. As a method of death, it’s fairly nasty.

Lucifer caresses his cheek. “I will heal you,” he says.

Sam forces a smile. “I know.”

Lucifer cups Sam’s cheek in his hand and Sam feels the warmth pass through him, but there is no release from the pain. Lucifer’s eyes snap open, and he looks from Sam to Dean with mounting horror.

“Heal him!” Dean snarls. “You’re an angel, now heal him!”

“The Colt!” Lucifer hisses. “You shot him with the Colt.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean asks angrily.

“I cannot heal an injury from the Colt,” Lucifer says.

Sam thinks that the news should have some effect on him, the news that he cannot be healed, but it doesn’t affect him the way it should. It feels like he already knew this, and now he is just hearing it again. He’s dying and that feels right, too. It’s deserved. He’s the one that brought the world crashing to its knees in the first place, after all. At least he gets to be with people he loves when it happens. Dean is here, and Lucifer, too.

“You have to heal him!” Dean says desperately, and now Sam can see that it is indeed Lucifer that is holding him against the wall, as he is struggling to free himself. “You can’t let him die.”

Sam shakes his head, and his vision swims. “S’okay, Dean, not your fault.”

“My fault!” Dean’s hand come up to knot in his hair. “Oh. God, Sam. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.”

“No,” Sam says with a hitching sigh. “It’s okay.”

Lucifer glares balefully at Dean. “See what you have done?”

“Stop, Lucifer. It’s...” Sam pauses to catch his breath, “not his fault. Don’t blame him. Don’t hurt him.”

“But–”

Sam presses a shaking finger to Lucifer’s lips. “Promise me?”

Lucifer looks torn. Sam knows he is fighting his every instinct at the moment. He wants to hurt Dean, to punish him for what happened, but to do that would be to kill Sam.

Sam gathers the last vestiges of his strength. “Promise me?”

Lucifer nods. “I promise.”

Sam smiles. “Good.” His eyes fog, and he allows himself a moment of rest, cradled in Lucifer’s arms. It’s not so bad here. He’s with the people he loves.

xXx

Sam’s eyes fall closed, and Lucifer shakes him gently. “Sam! Sam open your eyes!” As Sam fails to respond, Lucifer’s fear increases. “Sam, please!” Sam’s eyes stay still beneath their lids, but still he lives. Lucifer can hear the bubbling breaths as they rasp in and out of his lungs.

“Sammy! Wake up!” another voice orders. “C’mon, open your eyes.” It’s Dean, and he is speaking with increasing desperation.

His voice angers Lucifer. It is because of _him_ that this is happening. He has no right to feel fear or pain or grief or any of the things Lucifer is feeling because this is all _his_ fault! With a wave of his hand, Dean is rendered mute, and Lucifer is cruelly pleased. He no longer has to listen to him.

He focuses on the man in his arms. Sam’s eyes are closed still, but the rest of his body is alive with movement. As Lucifer traces a thumb over the curve of Sam’s cheek, he feels blood rushing below the surface of the skin, strengthening Sam and making him something other than meat. The rushing is slowing though, as are the gurgling breaths.

Lucifer looks across to Dean, and he sees tears streaming down his cheeks. He is staring at his brother as if by looking hard enough he can make him well again. He catches Lucifer’s eye and his mouth opens noiselessly. He looks angry, and Lucifer wonders what he is trying to communicate. He doesn’t care enough to give him back his voice, though.

Sam’s breaths are coming slower now. They hitch and rasp, and the pause between them is growing longer. Lucifer cups Sam’s face in his hand and rubs a thumb over his cheek.

“It’s okay, Sam,” he says in his softest tones. “You’re okay.”

Sam is fighting, he can tell, and Lucifer knows his job is to make this as easy for him as it can he.

“You can let go now,” he says, though what he really wants is to beg Sam to stay, but that is a desire borne out of selfishness. “I am here, and your brother is here. You can let go.”

He waits. There is one long drawn, gurgling breath, and then a deep exhale and no inhale. Sam is gone.

He bows his head and kisses Sam’s temple with almost reverent gentleness and then eases Sam down to the floor. Stepping back, he advances on Dean, who is still pinned against the wall, looking over at Sam with an expression of abject devastation. He is mouthing words soundlessly.

Lucifer gives him back his voice and listens to what the murderer has to say.

“Sammy, no,” he moans. “Please, no, don’t do this.”

Lucifer releases the force holding Dean against the wall and Dean drops to his knees. His head bows over and his forehead touches the floor. He is sobbing now and murmuring his brother’s name.

“You!” Lucifer says through gritted teeth. “You did this!”

Dean looks up at him. “Kill me, then. It’s what you want, right? It’s what I want. So do it.”

Lucifer closes his eyes and fights against the impulse to grant Dean’s wish. He made a promise, a promise not to hurt Dean, to the man he loves, and he will keep that promise no matter what. Besides, Dean should have to live with what he had done, as Lucifer must live with it.

“Why do you want to die?” he asks. “Michael would only bring you back to life again.”

“Because maybe I’ll get to see Sam before I come back,” Dean says. “Then I can tell him I’m sorry.”

“He knows it was an accident,” Lucifer says, not understanding why he is speaking to the killer, but not able to stop himself. “He forgave you as soon as it happened.”

Dean looks up at him with tear filled eyes. “That’s not the same thing as being able to talk to him.”

He pushes himself to his feet and steps slowly towards Sam. Lucifer moves to stand in his path.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“He’s my brother,” Dean says. “And if you’re not going to kill me, the least you can do is let me say goodbye.”

Lucifer steps back and let’s Dean pass. Dean kneels down beside Sam and bends down to rest his forehead against his brother’s. “I’m so sorry, Sammy.”

Dean looks up at Lucifer. “Can’t you heal him? Can’t you bring him back like Castiel did for me?”

Lucifer sighs. “I don’t know.”

“You have to try, tell me you’re going to try.”

Lucifer nods. “I can try. I was always going to try. It’s just that I am...” he frowns. “I am afraid it might not work.”

Dean huffs in exasperation. “Do it then!”

Lucifer frowns and crouches down beside Sam. “If it works, I do not want him awakening on the floor, coated in his own blood.”

He scoops Sam into his arms and gets carefully to his feet. Holding Sam close against his body, he climbs the stairs and goes into Sam’s bedroom. With exceptional care, he lays him down on the bed and steps back, not knowing what to do next.

“I can clean him up,” Dean says.

Lucifer nods. “His belongings all seem to be in that duffel. I will wait outside.” He is loathe to leave Sam, but he knows Dean will take care of him and he deserves privacy for this.

He steps out into the hall and listens to Dean’s murmuring voice as he talks to his fallen brother. There is the sound of rustling clothes and water running. Then, suddenly, he is no longer alone. There is a second person’s presence beside him.

“Castiel,” he says without removing his eyes from the door.

“Lucifer.”

“Sam fell,” he says, turning to face Castiel at last.

Castiel tilts his head to the side. “You were unable to heal him?”

“It was an injury from the Colt. There was no healing it.”

“Are you able to resurrect him?”

“I am to try in a moment. Dean is tending to him now.”

There is the sound of plodding footsteps behind the door, and then it swings open. Sam is changed, now. He is dressed in a clean white shirt and fresh jeans. He is laid out on the bed. If it wasn’t for the unnatural stillness and the pallor of his skin, it would be possible to believe he was sleeping.

“So, what do you have to do?” Dean asks.

Castiel puts his hand on Dean’s arm. “Just let him work, Dean.”

Dean and Castiel step back to stand by the door, and Lucifer seats himself on the edge of the bed. He takes one of Sam’s hands in his own and manipulates the fingers so they are entwined. He draws a deep breath and then lays his other hand on Sam’s forehead.

He closes his eyes in concentration and reaches for Sam with his grace. He can feel Sam’s soul, burning and bright and pure, and he focuses on it, drawing it back into the body.

xXx

The last thing Sam remembers is a voice, whispering to him, telling him that it was okay, to let go, and then he was free. He was in a place where no pain or trouble or guilt could find him, and he was at peace, and then Sam feels himself being torn away from the happy, peaceful place and forced, struggling, back into his body. He cries out at the pain of it.

Then his senses are assaulted. There is noise and touch and scents all overwhelming him. He jerks as if electrocuted and scrambles back until his shoulders meet an irresistible force. He curls into a ball, covering his head with his arms.

“It’s okay, Sam,” a soothing voice says. “You’re safe.”

Sam opens his eyes and lifts his arms from his head hesitantly. He recognizes that voice. It’s the voice that spoke to him as he died, comforting him and leading him away.

He opens his eyes, and a smiling face comes into focus.

“Lucifer?” he asks.

“I’m here.”

Lucifer lays his hand out on the blanket beside Sam, palm facing up. It is a reassurance and a question, and Sam doesn’t hesitate before laying his hand down in Lucifer’s. Lucifer brings up a hand slowly and cups Sam’s cheek. Sam leans into the touch, feeling the cool skin against his own heated skin.

“I thought I lost you,” Lucifer says. His voice quavers with emotion.

Sam tries to make sense of what happened to him. He had been dying, and Lucifer hadn’t been able to heal him. Then he was in the perfect place and now he was back here. Lucifer must have saved him after all.

He looks into Lucifer’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Lucifer smiles. “You are most welcome.”

“Sammy?” The voice is hoarse with emotion, and it comes from behind Lucifer. Sam looks past and sees Dean standing with Castiel. Dean’s eyes are red and troubled looking.

“Hey, Dean,” he says.

Dean takes a hesitant step forward and then falters. His eyes fall to where Sam and Lucifer’s hands are entwined. Sam feels no embarrassment, but he wants to be able to greet his brother properly, so he releases Lucifer’s hand reluctantly and pushes himself to the edge of the bed. Lucifer grips his elbow as he stands, as if to steady him. Sam needs no steadying though; he has never felt better in his life.

He walks closer and opens his arms to his brother, and Dean practically falls into them. He grips the back of Dean’s jacket and holds him close. It feels like forever since he left his brother in that warehouse, and this is the reunion he had been hoping for ever since that day.

“Sammy, man, I’m so sorry,” Dean says, pulling away and looking Sam in the eye. “I’m never would have... You know I wouldn’t, right?”

“I know,” Sam says. “It was an accident.”

Dean nods, and takes a deep breath. “Right, then, let’s go. C’mon, Cas.”

Castiel steps away from the wall and comes to stand beside Dean.

“Go?” Sam takes a step back to stand beside Lucifer who has risen to his feet. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “He’s not going to keep you prisoner after what happened, are you?” He looks to Lucifer.

“No, Sam is free to go wherever he chooses,” Lucifer says, looking sad.

“See? Now, come on.” He steps forward and tugs of Sam’s sleeve. “We’re going.”

“I’m not going, Dean,” Sam says again. “I’m not a prisoner anymore, but I’m staying.”

“Why the hell would you want to do that? He’s giving you a free pass, Sammy. Let’s shag ass.”

“I can’t leave him, Dean,” Sam says sadly. “I...” He trails off.

“You what?” Dean demands. “Feel guilty? Have some kind of twisted Stockholm Syndrome? What?”

Sam swallows and turns away from Dean to look at Lucifer. “No, I love him.”

Lucifer’s eyes bore into Sam’s. “You do?”

Sam smiles and nods. “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, where did all of you guys come from? You’ve been hiding! We leave one cliffhanger and boom, there you all are. We love you, yes even you, you lurker you. Thanks so much, Snarks and Clowns


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading!

“You what?” Dean says, turning his head like he somehow misunderstood. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

Sam looks between him and Lucifer, unsure of what to say.

Dean nods for him to answer. “Well?”

“I said, I love him, Dean.”

Dean’s face tightens in anger, and he charges forward toward Lucifer. “You!” Dean snaps as he reaches for Lucifer's throat. Castiel grabs him by the arm and pulls him back. Lucifer steps forward and pushes Sam behind him.

“Dean,” Sam says firmly, peering out from behind Lucifer. “Calm down.”

Dean raises his brows. “Calm down, Sam? Really, dude, after that bomb you just dropped on me.”

“Dean,” Castiel says carefully. “Perhaps we should reconvene to talk later when we’ve had a chance to calm down.”

“Reconvene my ass! We need to talk about this now.”

Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re treating this like it’s a bad thing, Dean, when it’s not.”

“Am I the only sane one here?” Dean asks, raking a hand through his hair.

Sam sighs. “Dean, don’t be like this.”

“You were just dead, Sam. I’ve barely adjusted to that, and now you go saying you love the Devil, the Devil, Sam. The thing that is right now probably plotting how to kill puppies. You can’t love him.” Dean crosses his arms over his chest, jutting out his chin. “I forbid it.”

Sam’s brow wrinkles and he squares his shoulders. “You forbid me loving him?”

“Yeah,” Dean says with a nod. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“What are you ten?” Sam asks. “We’re not having this conversation, Dean. I love him, and I’m not leaving him.”

“So you’re just going to go darkside on us?” Dean asks, eyes narrowing.

“You really think I’d do that?” Sam asks, hurt. He cannot believe his brother would think he was capable of that.

“You’re telling me you love the Devil, Sam. That’s blown everything I thought I knew out of the water. How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking?”

“I believe,” Lucifer says turning to look at Sam and then back to Dean, “that this is something best discussed between your brother and myself in private.”

Sam nods. “Go back to Bobby’s. I’ll come find you there.”

“Go back to Bobby’s!” Dean says incredulously. “I don’t think so, Sam. You’re coming with me. I’m done with this bullshit.”

He reaches forward for Sam, but Lucifer is faster. He rests a hand on Sam’s arm, and then they are gone. Sam’s eyes snap closed and when they reopen, he is standing on a white sandy beach.

“Where are we?” he asks.

“This is the island of Membata. It’s uninhabited, so we will not be disturbed.”

Sam draws a deep breath of the clean, salty air and looks around. The beach is lined with palm trees and ferns. Further down the beach, Sam can see a rocky outcropping. “It’s beautiful.”

“I thought we could use some place private.”

Sam nods. “Private is good.” He starts off towards the rocks, and Lucifer keeps pace beside him. When he reaches the rocks, he sits down and rests his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “Lucifer, I need to know... Dean, he asked if I was going darkside. I can’t do that, you know I can’t, so I need to know, what are your plans.”

Sam is in love, that he is certain of, but even love has its limits, and Sam cannot support Lucifer if he is insistent on continuing his plans for the apocalypse. He would have to leave him and go with Dean, and though it would kill him, he would have to work to find a way to end Lucifer. It would be more painful than anything that has happened to him to date, but the love for one angel doesn’t overcome his responsibility to the world. He was the one to let Lucifer free, and if he is forced to, he will be the one to take him down.

Lucifer is silent for a moment, he looks out over the waves that are crashing against the rocks. “What would you like them to be?” he asks eventually.

Sam’s brows pinch together. “What I would like is for you to give it all up, but I know you’re not going to do that. You wouldn’t—”

Lucifer puts up a hand. “If that’s what you wish, then I will.”

“You’d do that?” Sam asks. “Just like that.”

“For you, yes.”

Sam is overwhelmed. His hands come up to his face and he scrubs a hand over his eyes. The magnitude of what Lucifer is offering him takes a moment to sink in. The apocalypse over. He can’t quite believe it. “You mean it?” he asks. “No more apocalypse?”

Lucifer smiles. “I mean it. I will end my plans now if that is what you wish.”

“No strings attached?” Sam can’t help himself. It’s is Lucifer after all.

Lucifer nods and then reaches out for Sam’s hand. “I would give up the world for you.”

Sam swallows. He is without words. He laces his fingers with Lucifer’s and Lucifer gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You look overwhelmed,” Lucifer says.

“I feel it,” Sam says. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

Lucifer nods and looks thoughtful. “How are you feeling, though?”

Sam shrugs. “Confused.”

Lucifer smiles. “I meant physically, but I understand your emotions must also be chaotic at the moment.”

Sam runs a hand over his chest where the bullet hit. “It doesn’t feel any different. I remember what happened, and I remember the pain, but there’s nothing now. Whatever you did, it fixed it all. Thank you.”

“I wish I had been able to heal you when it mattered,” Lucifer says bitterly. “Instead you were forced to...”

“Die?” Sam suggests. “Don’t worry. It’s not the first time it’s happened.” Lucifer looks pained, and Sam squeezes his hand softly. “It’s okay, Lucifer. I’m fine now.”

He feels good. His mind refuses to dwell on what happened immediately after he died, the place he had been. He will not think about that. There are a lot of good things happening now. Lucifer being one of them.

“So, how did you find this place?” he asks.

“I come here a lot. I like to think in peace, and this place meets my needs.”

Sam chuckles. “I always imagined you going somewhere different to think, somewhere... I don’t know, evil.”

Lucifer throws back his head and laughs raucously. “Somewhere evil? Where would you consider to be a suitably evil place for me to think?”

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know, a crypt or something.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes. “You amuse me, Sam, even when you don’t intend to.”

Sam considers for a moment and decides that it’s probably a good thing that he can amuse Lucifer, as he doesn’t have a lot else to offer.

Sam stares out at the crashing waves, and his brow furrows.

“What’s wrong?” Lucifer asks.

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just a lot, you know? I’m trying to absorb it all. I’m trying to wrap my mind around all this. Everything has changed in a short space of time, and my brain’s still trying to catch up with my heart.”

“I understand. I had the same reaction when the truth was pointed out to me.”

“Who pointed it out?” Sam asks curiously.

“My brother, Gabriel. He understood before I did. You must understand, human emotions are foreign to me, and I didn't realize what I was feeling was love. He saw it in the pages your friends and brother had been reading, and he came to me.”

“If he saw it in the pages, why is it such a shock to Dean?” Sam wonders aloud.

“Gabriel only saw it because he’s knows me so well. He saw the changes in me in the pages, though to your brother, who does not know me, they would have been evidence of my manipulating you. It’s all about point of view.”

“When did it happen for you?” Sam asks. “When did I go from being your vessel to someone you love?”

“I believe it began the day you saved the child. I was in awe that you, a simple human, could overpower my father’s will. After that, it was easy. I came to love everything about you.”

Sam blushes and looks down at the ground. He’s not had anyone speak to and about him like this in years, not since Jessica died.

“And you?” Lucifer asks. “When did you come to love me?” He looks delighted as he asks, as if saying the words aloud makes it real to him.

“It’d probably been coming on for a while, but I think it was the demon blood that did it. You didn’t judge me or lock me away. You gave me exactly what I needed at that time, and when the time came for me to pay for what I had done, you were there for that, too. You saw me at my absolute worst and you didn’t cringe away from me. You were there.”

Lucifer nods thoughtfully. “I could not have done it any other way.”

Sam smiles. “Thank you.”

Lucifer brings a hand up to Sam’s face, and he runs the pad of his thumb over Sam’s cheek. “I love you,” he says as if that is explanation for everything.

“I know,” Sam says with a smile.

“Shall we go back to your brother now? I imagine he is growing anxious.”

Sam sighs and nods. “Yeah, I guess we’d better.”

Lucifer frowns. “We don’t have to.”

“No, we should. I’m just not looking forward to facing him again.”

“We have good news to share now. There will be no more apocalypse.”

“Yeah,” Sam rubs at the back of his neck. “There’s that, I guess. I have a feeling he’s still going to be a hard sell as far as me and you go.”

“Do we need his approval?” Lucifer asks.

Sam shakes his head. “No, but I would like his acceptance. I don’t want you both at each other’s throats. We’re going to have to learn to work together.”

Sam considers this for a moment. What is going to happen next? He tries to imagine Lucifer sitting around at Bobby’s with the rest of him, but he cannot. The idea is too strange.

“Come on, Sam,” Lucifer says. “Let’s go back to your brother. I can hear him calling.”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Dean is praying to you?”

“More like bellowing,” Lucifer says.

Sam gets to his feet and grips Lucifer’s hand a little tighter. He has a feeling he is going to need the comfort.

xXx

Dean throws open Bobby’s front door and stomps into the study.

Bobby is sitting at the desk with a half empty bottle of whiskey beside him and an empty glass. He looks up and visibly starts as he catches sight of Dean.

“Jesus, you’re alive!” he gasps, then his eyes find the blood on Dean’s jacket and shirt. “Please tell me that’s Lucifer’s,” he says in a shaky tone.

“No, it’s Sam’s.”

Bobby pales. “Sam’s?”

“Don’t worry, he died, but Lucifer brought him back.”

“He... Lucifer...” Bobby picks up a heavy book and lobs it at Dean. It catches him on the arm.

“What the hell, Bobby?”

“I’ll give you what the hell, Bobby. You come in here, covered in your brother’s blood, and proceed to tell me he died, and then you tell me not to worry!” He picks up another book, and Dean throws his arms up to defend himself.

“I’m sorry, Bobby. I guess in the grand scheme of things that didn’t seem like the worst news anymore.”

“You best start talking some sense,” Bobby says. “Or so help me...”

“Sam is well,” Castiel states. “He died, but Lucifer was able to resurrect him.”

Bobby exhales a shaky breath. “And he’s okay now?”

“As far as we know he is fine,” Castiel says. “We didn’t have long with him before he and Lucifer went elsewhere to be alone.”

“Well, okay,” Bobby says doubtfully. “So he’s still a prisoner.”

Dean scoffs. “I wish. No, he’s completely gone over this time. Remember the nervous breakdown we thought he was having? Well, he’s full blown cuckoo’s nest now!”

Bobby glares at Dean and then turns to Castiel. “Cas, you seem to be the only one capable of giving me a straight answer, so how’s about you fill me in on what’s been happening.”

Castiel nods. “Sam has expressed affection for Lucifer, and I believe it’s of his own free will that he has fallen in love.”

“With who?” Bobby asks blankly.

“With _Lucifer_!” Dean spits the name. “Sam thinks he’s in love with the Devil.”

“Well... shit,” Bobby says breathlessly. “Didn’t see that coming.”

He pours himself a glass of whisky and knocks in back in one swallow. Dean takes the bottle and gulps at the amber liquid.

“So, what are we going to do now?” Bobby asks.

Dean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where they are now.”

Castiel clears his throat. “You could pray to him.”

“You want me to pray to the Devil?” Dean asks with a quirked brow.

“It is the most effective way of communicating with him,” Castiel says patiently.

“Fine you want me to pray?” He raises his eyes to the ceiling and closes his eyes. “Oh, Lucifer, if you’re listening, do me a favor, and get your feathered ass back here with my brother. _Now!”_

He turns to look at Castiel. “How was that?”

Castiel frowns. “I believe you may have done nothing but anger him.”

Dean shrugs. “Hey, he won’t hurt me. I’m his lover’s brother.”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “You prepared to bet your life on that?”

“Damn right, I am. What’s he gonna do, smite me?”

“I would never do that,” a soft voice says behind him.

Dean spins on his heel and sees Lucifer and Sam standing in the archway.

“You’re back!” he says in an unnaturally high tone.

“Yep.” Sam lets go of Lucifer’s hand and peers around Dean to smile at Bobby. “Hey, Bobby.”

“Hey, boy. It’s good to see you,” Bobby says with a smile. “I hear you got some news for me.”

Sam smiles and nods. “Yeah, I guess I do. This is Lucifer. He...”

“Enough of this horseshit!” Dean snaps, stepping forward and shoving Sam’s shoulders. “You bring him here, to Bobby’s home! Why don’t you just kill us all and get it over with?”

Lucifer steps forward as if to confront Dean, but Sam pushes a hand against his chest, holding him back. Apparently satisfied that Lucifer isn’t going to smite Dean where he stands, he turns back to Dean.

“Yes, I brought him here, because I trust him. You should, too. You saw what he did for me. Why would he hurt us?”

“Because he’s Satan, Sam. Are you damaged? Do you forget who you are talking about? He kidnapped you and held you hostage.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Sam says. “But it’s different now. He’s different!”

“The only thing that’s different here is you!” Dean throws his hands in the air. “What are you thinking? How could you do this?”

“Do what? I haven’t done anything but fall in love, Dean. I can’t control that.”

“Well you damn well should try. It’s the Devil, Sam, the Devil. What part of that don’t you understand?”

Sam leans forward so he is in Dean’s space. “What’s this really about? The fact I fell in love with Lucifer or the fact Lucifer is a man?”

“Trust me, the least of my concerns at the moment is his junk.”

Sam crosses his arms over his chest. “I trust him, and you should trust me, too!”

“How can you say that, after what he’s done, what he planning on doing?” Dean asks. “He wants to end us all, Sam. You might be safe, but what about the rest of us?”

Sam steps back, reeling from Dean’s words. “You think I would be anywhere near him if I believed he would hurt you? Or anyone else for that matter? Do you really have that low an opinion of me?”

Dean swallows and bites at his lip in thought. “Well, no. But that’s not the point, Sam. You have to see that your eggs are a bit scrambled here. Look what he’s capable of. Please, Sammy, think about this.”

“I feel this is a good time for me to interject,” Lucifer says. “Sam and I have already come to an agreement regarding my... plans. I have agreed not to execute them, and as soon as I am certain Sam is safe here, I will go to negate the things I have already set in motion.”

“See?” Sam says. “He’s on our side. He’s not trying to hurt anyone anymore.”

Dean scowls at Lucifer. “You’re seriously giving it up, just like that? Excuse me if I don’t believe you.”

“What proof do you require?” Lucifer asks.

Dean scoffs. “Proof? Okay, how about this, you say you’re giving it all up, then how about the horsemen’s rings?”

Lucifer puts his hand into his pocket and pulls out a ugly silver ring with a black stone. He holds it out to Dean. “Here, this is Famine’s ring.”

“You’re just going to give it to me?” Dean asks.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Lucifer asks. “I am trying to prove to you that I am on your side.”

Dean nods. “I’ll start to believe you when you hand it over.” He extends his hand.

Lucifer tilts his hand and the ring drops into Dean’s palm. Dean’s fingers snap closed around the  ring and he nods jerkily.

“You might want to bury it with War’s ring,” Lucifer says. “They are exceptionally powerful.”

“So, right then, what now?” Bobby asks.

“Well,” Lucifer says. “I was thinking I could perhaps aid you with your mobility situation.”

Bobby’s eyebrows raise. “You can fix me?” He sounds scared to hope.

Lucifer nods. “I may be fallen, but I am still an archangel.”

Bobby smiles as Lucifer steps forward.

As Dean watches, he is forced to admit that things are changing. Time will tell if it’s for the good or the bad, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much. We really love you guy so much. It still amazes us how many people are interested in a Sam/Lucifer story. It’s awesome. Please let us know what you think. We are addicted to your opinions.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading!

Sam and Lucifer materialize outside the hotel in Michigan. They have come to collect Sam's belongings and to deal with the demons that are left. Dean and Cas are coming to collect the Impala, but they haven't arrived yet.

Lucifer holds his hand out to Sam, and Sam takes it without hesitation. He thinks it should feel strange to be holding Lucifer's hand so much, but it feels as natural as breathing to him. Everything that has happened—dying and being brought back to life, Lucifer renouncing the apocalypse—makes the simple act of showing affection seem positively tiny in comparison.

They step into the hotel lobby, and Sam stops dead in his tracks. In the center of the room, there is a large, smeared pool of blood. His blood. The sight steals his breath. He knew it had been bad, he had died after all, but to see the physical proof of it is something else.

Lucifer is staring at the blood, too, and a scowl creases his brow. Sam squeezes his hand and he turns to look at Sam. He shakes his head, as if dispelling an unpleasant thought and smiles at Sam.

"Are you okay?"

Sam nods. "Yeah... it's just a lot, you know?"

"I know," Lucifer says gently.

Together, they walk up the stairs and into Sam's room. Sam hears movement behind the other doors as they pass, and he knows it's the demons. Lucifer has not told him what he will do with the demons. He just said they must be 'dealt with'. If Sam was in their position, he would be very nervous at the moment.

Sam grabs his duffel from the floor and moves around the room collecting his possessions and stuffing them inside. Lucifer sits on the end of the bed watching him.

In the bathroom, Sam finds a pile of blood soaked clothes in the sink. It's the clothes he had been wearing when he was shot. He fingers the small hole in the shirt that the bullet made. It's so small, but it did so much damage.

His breath hitches.

"Sam, are you okay in there?" Lucifer calls.

"Yeah, I'll just be a minute."

Sam stuffs the clothes into a laundry bag, thinking that he will burn them when he gets back to Bobby's. He grabs his toiletries and goes back into the room. Stuffing them into his bag, he looks around for anything he might have missed.

"Do you have everything?" Lucifer asks.

Sam nods. "What happens next?"

"I must deal with the demons," Lucifer says.

"What are you going to do with them?"

Lucifer taps his chin thoughtfully. "I think I will exorcise them and modify their memories to wipe my presence from their thoughts. There's no need for them to spend the rest of their lives fearing the Devil."

Sam's eyes widen. "You can do that? I thought you'd just kill them all."

Lucifer smiles indulgently. "I am an archangel, Sam. I can kill them if you prefer, but I thought you and your brother would be happier if there were fewer deaths on my account."

"Definitely." Sam nods. "Dean will be pleased. He might not say it, but he'll be thinking it."

Lucifer smiles. "Very well."

Sam shoulders his duffel and follows Lucifer out onto the hall. He knocks on another of the doors, and a moment later, it opens to reveal a demon. It's the woman that brought Sam his meal before. She is practically quaking with fear as she sees Lucifer.

"It's okay," Lucifer says in a gentle tone. "I am not going to hurt you."

He reaches out a hand slowly and touches her temple. A moment later, she slumps toward the ground. Sam steps forward and catches her.

"Is she alive?" he asks Lucifer.

"Yes, she is quite well, just unconscious. I will attend to her memories now." He puts his hand on her temple as Sam cradles her, and Lucifer's brows furrow with concentration. When he's done, Lucifer pushes himself to his feet.

Sam carries the sleeping woman to the bed and lays her down gently. Lucifer watches him with a strange expression.

"What?" Sam asks.

Lucifer shakes his head. "Nothing."

Slowly, they work their way through the hotel, finding Lucifer's demons. Sam watches Lucifer as he works, and he is struck by the care he shows. He believes it is for his benefit that Lucifer is being so gentle, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

They are just attending to the last demon when Sam hears a voice calling from the lobby. "Sammy, you here?"

Lucifer smiles. "Your brother doesn't trust me with you."

Sam shrugs. "He will eventually. He's had a rough few days. He just needs to wrap his mind around the idea of us and he'll be fine."

At least Sam hopes he will be. He's not so naive to think that Dean and Lucifer are ever going to be friends, but he hopes that Dean can at least come to accept Lucifer for who he is — the man Sam loves. He supposes it would be difficult for Dean to accept anyone new into their lives, least of all Lucifer. With everything that's happened, he guesses he should just be glad Dean isn't still trying to kill Lucifer.

Sam goes to the stairs and meets his brother in the lobby. Dean is staring at the bloodstain the same way Sam had. Sam steps in front of it, blocking Dean's view. He knows it must be even harder for Dean to see the blood than it was for him.

"Hey," Dean says. "You and Satan get everything cleared up here?"

Sam frowns. " _Lucifer_ is just dealing with the last demon now."

"So we got a pile of dead bodies to deal with!" Dean huffs. "That's just great."

Sam crosses his arms over his chest. "Actually, no, we have a pile of unconscious humans with their memories wiped."

Dean whistles. "Okay, that's definitely better than what I imagined."

Sam nods. "I thought so, too."

Lucifer comes down the stairs, carrying Sam's duffel. "We should leave," he says. "They will be waking soon."

Sam nods and reaches out for the duffel. "Okay then." He turns to Dean. "Meet you back at Bobby's?"

Dean rubs at the back of his neck. "I was thinking we could drive back. Me and you," he adds, as if fearing Lucifer was going to want to come along for the ride.

Sam shrugs. "Okay." He turns to Lucifer. "I'll see you at Bobby's."

Lucifer nods. "Take care."

Sam smiles. "I will."

Dean tugs on his arm, and Sam follows him out to the Impala. He throws his duffel on to the back seat and climbs into the car. The familiar scent of leather greets him, and the seat cradles his tall form just the way he remembers. It feels good to be back home.

Dean climbs in beside him and brings the engine to life. Sam looks through the window and waves to Lucifer and Castiel who are standing outside the hotel. Castiel looks much as he always does—slightly bewildered—but Lucifer smiles and raises his own hand.

"You two are making me sick," Dean groans.

Sam chuckles. "Like I haven't spent half my life watching you crack on to chicks."

"That's different," Dean says.

"Because they're women?" Sam says irritably.

"No, because they weren't Satan."

Sam groans. "If you're going to start that crap up, you might as well pull over now. I'm not going the next eight-hundred miles listening to you bitch about Lucifer."

"Sorry, sorry," Dean says, looking askance at him. "Answer me one question and I'll stop bitching."

"Okay," Sam says. "Shoot."

"What is it about him that you love?"

Sam doesn't need to think hard for the answer. "He's seen me at my very worst and he didn't cringe away. No one has ever done that for me in my life."

Dean scowls but doesn't comment. Sam guesses he is thinking the same thing Sam is. Demon blood. Dean and Bobby left him in the panic room to suffer through it alone. He understands why they did it, and he can't honestly say he wouldn't have done the same if the roles were reversed. He will never know, as neither Dean nor Bobby would be stupid enough to do that to himself in the first place. But the fact is Lucifer was there for Sam, and he saw him through it all. That is one of the many reasons Sam loves Lucifer. It's not about who he was or what he did, it's about who he is now, and who he is now just saved over a dozen humans by exorcising them and wiping their memories rather than killing them. He's a good person.

They ride in silence for a while, and then Dean breaks the silence by clearing his throat.

Sam turns to him and waits for him to speak. Dean opens his mouth a couple of times and closes it again before he finds his voice.

"So... when you were shot... Do you, um..."

"Do I remember?" Sam asks.

"No, well, yeah, but that's not what I'm asking. I want to know what happened to you... after."

Sam frowns and then he understands. He draws a shaky breath. "You want to know where I went when I died?"

Dean nods, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

"I didn't go to Hell, Dean," Sam says softly.

Dean exhales in a rush. It was obviously what he was worried about. "So, you went to Heaven?" he asks.

Sam smiles. "Don't ask me how, but yeah. Somehow I ended up in Heaven."

"What was it like?" Dean asks looking across at Sam.

Sam sighs. He doesn't want to talk about this. He doesn't want to think about the place that he had been, the place he had lost. He is making the best with what he has, and what he has is more than great, but it's not the same as the perfect, peaceful place he had been.

"You told me one that there aren't words to describe Hell," he says. "The same goes for Heaven."

Dean looks at him, and for a moment, Sam thinks he's going to question him further, but thankfully, he doesn't. Sam is relieved. He could perhaps talk to Lucifer about Heaven, as he understood, he had once been cast out, but he can't talk to Dean about it. He can't talk to Dean about what he'd lost.

xXx

By the time they are passing through Chicago, Sam's stomach is growling, so Dean pulls over at a diner. It's familiar and comforting, to sit with Dean at a table and to listen to him ordering his bacon cheeseburger with extra onions. Sam orders himself a salad and coffee.

As they wait for their food to arrive, Dean clears his throat and Sam looks up. Dean's brow is creased, and he is staring moodily into his coffee. Sam braces himself, thinking another conversation about Lucifer is coming, but Dean catches him completely off guard with what he says next.

"Thanks, Sammy."

Sam looks at him blankly. "For what?"

"For what you did, going to Lucifer like that. I know it can't have been an easy decision to make, and I want you to know I appreciate what you went through for me."

"You're wrong," Sam says. "It was easy." Dean looks confused, and Sam explains. "If I hadn't gone to Lucifer, that hellhound would have killed you. It was only the fact that Lucifer called them off when he did that saved you."

"Yeah, real nice guy Lucifer."

Sam ignores the jibe against Lucifer. "So there was no decision to make. As soon as I realized I had a way to save you, I took it."

"You say that like it's that simple," Dean says, scrubbing a hand over his face and sitting back.

Sam tries to find a way to explain it, and he stumbles across a comparison. "When you went to the crossroad demon after I died. Was it a decision you labored over for hours?"

Dean shakes his head, his expression darkening as he remembers. "No. As soon as I thought of it, I did it. It was the answer."

Sam nods. "It was the same to me. It was probably easier for me, too. I knew Lucifer wouldn't kill me. He needed me too much,"

Dean rests his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. "I get that. Well, thank you."

Sam shrugs. "It's what we do,"

Dean smiles. "Let's not make a habit of it, okay?"

"Agreed."

Their food arrives, and Sam is halfway through his meal when he feels Dean's eyes on him again. He looks up. "What?"

"I want to ask you something, and it's kinda personal."

Sam raises his eyebrows. "Since when has anything been too personal between us?"

Dean nods. "Well, this is kinda different. It's about you and Lucifer."

Sam chokes on his mouthful of coffee, and it takes him a moment to catch his breath. "You want to know about us?"

Dean shakes his head. "Not like that! Hell, no. I was just wondering..." He rubs at the back of his neck. "Have you always been... you know?"

"Gay?" Sam says.

Dean nods. "Yeah."

"No, and I don't think of myself as gay now. It's Lucifer I love as a person. His vessel just happens to be a man. If you want to call me something, call me angel-sexual."

Dean snorts. "So, Cas?"

Sam laughs. "As you said, hell, no! It's Lucifer as he is. It's who he is that I love. The packaging is incidental."

"So you and Lucifer are gonna, you know," Dean gestures vaguely in the air.

"Have sex?" Sam supplies with a smirk.

Dean cringes. "Yeah."

Sam shrugs. "Yeah. I guess so. It is what couples do, Dean."

A shiver visibly passes through Dean and he closes his eyes. "Let's forget we had this little conversation, okay?"

"You're the one who brought it up, man."

"Never happened," Dean says firmly, turning his attention to his burger once again.

Sam grins, thinking of how good it feels to be back to his normal life with Dean.

xXx

When they get back to Bobby's, they find Bobby waiting on the porch for them. Sam is initially concerned that something has happened, but it transpires that Bobby just heard them coming.

"I can't seem to sit still," he confessed. "I spent the night walking up and down the stairs."

"That sounds suitably stupid," Dean says. "Hey, Sammy, you think your boyfriend can heal dementia."

Bobby swipes at Dean's arm. "Watch your tongue, boy. I'm back on my feet now, which means I can kick your ass if I need to."

Dean chuckles. "Course you can, Bobby."

"Lucifer not back yet?" Sam asks.

Bobby shakes his head. "He and Cas dropped by to let me know you two were driving back, and then they disappeared again."

Sam shrugs and tries not to let his disappointment show. Judging by the amused look Bobby gives him, he's not successful.

"Well, I'm hitting the hay," Dean announces. "I can't remember the last decent night's sleep I had. What are you doing, Sammy?"

"There something I need to do," Sam says, getting his duffel from the backseat of the car. "I'll be in soon."

Dean and Bobby nod and go inside, and Sam pulls the bag of bloody clothes from his duffel. He could easily throw them away, but he likes the symbology of burning them. He drops them into the barrel by the garage and pours over some lighter fluid. He drops a match down onto the pile and steps back as the flames roar up.

He stands silently, watching the fire, thinking over everything that has happened over the last few days. It feels like a lifetime ago that he set out for the diner against Lucifer's orders.

There is a soft rustling sound and then he feels arms slip around him and a chin resting on his shoulder. "You're thinking deep thoughts," Lucifer says into his ear.

Sam smiles and leans back against him. "I was thinking of how things have changed."

"All for the better, I hope."

"Definitely for the better." Sam sighs. "Where were you?"

Lucifer's arms slip from around him, and Sam turns to look at him. Lucifer looks a little guilty.

"Lucifer, what have you been doing?" Sam asks.

"I had to deal with Death."

"Death as in the horseman? _The_ Death?"

Lucifer nods. "The last horseman to be raised, yes."

"When did that happen?" Sam asks.

Lucifer frowns. "You must understand, I was very angry, and I..."

"Lucifer!"

"After I expressed my feelings to you, I went to Carthage and raised him."

"You raised a horseman because you were angry?" Sam asks, and then throws up his arms. "Of course you did. What is Death doing now? Or shouldn't I ask?"

"Death is doing nothing," Lucifer says. "I have attended to him and he is working within the constraints he always has."

"So this isn't you slipping from the no-more-apocalypse promise?"

Lucifer looks hurt. "Do you really believe me capable of that? I promised I would stop my plans, and I have. Today I was merely dealing with what I already set in motion."

Sam holds his hands up. "Okay. I'm sorry. I just thought..."

"You thought I betrayed you already," Lucifer says.

"No," Sam says. "Well, yes, but I'm sorry. I shouldn't have doubted you." He steps forward and entwines his fingers with Lucifer's. "I'm sorry."

Lucifer looks at their clasped hands. "I should expect this. I am the Devil."

"Not to me," Sam says, stepping closer. "You're Lucifer to me."

Lucifer looks into his eyes, and Sam becomes lost. He steps forward without thinking and leans close to Lucifer. His cheek rests against Lucifer's stubbly one, and he whispers. "I'm sorry."

Lucifer leans against Sam, tilting his head, causing his cheek to rub against Sam's. Then he turns and their lips meet. Sam expects it to feel strange, rough skin instead of soft, stubble instead of smooth. What he doesn't expect is for it to feel so natural and right. As if two pieces of a puzzle are clicking together. His lips part and he feels Lucifer's breath against him. Lucifer is hesitant and unknowing, but Sam knows this. This is familiar to him. He swallows the little moan Lucifer makes as their tongues touch and cradles the back of Lucifer's head with his hand. In this at least, Sam is the one that knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much. There are five chapters left including the epilogue. We love you all! Hugs, snarks and clowns.
> 
> P.S. If I messed up and missed replying to your review, it's not 'cause I don't love you, I just tried to do it before I had any coffee in my system. I still love you and want to hug you and keep you in my pocket and take you for walks. Forgive me? -Snarks


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
>  Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading!

When Dean gets down to the kitchen the next day, Bobby is standing at the counter alone waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. He looks up at Dean as he enters and smiles.

“You okay?”

Dean nods, looking around the room. “Where’s Cas and Satan?”

“I haven’t seen Cas since he came by yesterday, and Lucifer is outside somewhere. How about Sam?”

“He’s still snoring up a storm.”

The coffee machine beeped and Bobby poured himself and Dean each a mug. Dean looked at the idle computer on the table and thought how strange it was to not be waiting on Chuck to deliver that day’s pages. It was great to have Sam back with them, but Dean wished it didn’t come at such a price. Having Lucifer along for the ride wasn’t ideal.

Dean takes his mug out to the back porch and sits down on the steps. He can’t see Lucifer around, but he knows he’s close; the hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end. He wonders how Sam can see past things like that to be close to Lucifer.

He hears the sound of footsteps, and a moment later, Lucifer appears from around a stack of junkers.

“Good morning, Dean,” he says politely.

Dean grunts in response.

“I would like to talk to you,” Lucifer says.

“Go ahead.”

Lucifer steps a little closer, but he doesn’t sit down beside Dean. He leans against the railing and looks down at Dean. “I imagine the situation between your brother and myself is difficult for you to understand.”

Dean scoffs. “You can say that again.”

“But I want you to know,” Lucifer says, continuing as if he hadn’t heard Dean’s words. “That I love your brother, and I would never do anything to hurt him. I know it is going to take time for me to earn your trust, and I will endeavor to do whatever it takes to earn than.”

Dean rubs at the back of his neck uncomfortably. The last thing he wants now is a heart to heart with the Devil, but he has a feeling that is he doesn’t let Lucifer get it out of his system now, he will continue to try until he succeeds. “I trust you with Sammy,” he says. “I know you won’t hurt him, but it’s the rest of the world i don’t trust you with.”

“Don’t you see? To do anything against the world would be to hurt Sam, and I can never do that.”

Dean sighs, “That sounds great and all, but I’ve seen proof of what you’re capable of doing to the world.”

Lucifer frowns. “You mean the Croatoan world that Zachariah showed you?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, the post-apocalyptic hell.”

Lucifer looks thoughtful. “i admit that was my intention, to bring humanity to its knees by turning it against each other, but I have forsworn that world for Sam.”

“It’s that easy?” Dean asks. “You just decide you don’t want to do it anymore and that’s that.”

“Hardly,” Lucifer says, examining his fingernails. “I must deal with Pestilence. He is the mastermind behind the Croatoan virus.”

“So, if you don’t stop him...”

“The virus will be released and the world will fall.”

Dean gets to his feet. “There you go then. You want to prove to me that you’ve changed, that has to be the first step. You call off your horseman and then we can talk about you and Sammy actually having a chance at working.”

Lucifer nods. “This is a conversation your brother should be present for. I will go wake him.”

“I don’t think so,” Dean says quickly. “I’ll wake him. I don’t want you two macking on my bed. I have to sleep in that room, too.”

“Very well,” Lucifer says.

Dean goes back into the house and up the stairs to his and Sam’s room. Sam is sleeping with his head pillowed on his arms and his legs tangled in the blankets.

“Rise and shine, Sammy,” Dean says, slapping his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” he says sleepily.

“Your boyfriend has dropped a pile of crap on our laps, and we’ve got to sort it out.”

Sam untangles his legs from the blanket and sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his eyes. He pulls on a pair of jeans and gets to his feet.

“What’s Lucifer done?”

“Turns out saying you won’t end the world and actually proving it are two very different things. Croatoan world is still on, and we’ve got to sort it out.”

Sam gets to his feet and grabs a shirt from his duffel. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“What do you want me to say, Dean? He’s made mistakes, and now he’s working to fix them. He took care of Death last night, and today we’ll deal with Pestilence.”

“Mistakes?” Dean throws up his arms. “Grabbing a metric wrench when you’re asking for a standard is a mistake. Almost ending the world is a choice.”

Sam rolls his eyes and pushes past Dean. When Dean gets to the study, Sam and Lucifer are standing leaning against the wall, shoulders touching, and looking at Bobby who is talking.

“So Pestilence is still out there working on the Croatoan world?”

Lucifer nods. “He must be stopped. I’m afraid it’s more than a case of me calling him off. The virus is in production already. It is disguised as a vaccine for swine flu.”

“That was your master plan?” Dean says. “Infect the world with swine flu and then, when everyone’s panicking, you bring out the ‘vaccine’.”

Lucifer nods. “That was Pestilence’s plan, yes.”

“So we have to destroy the lab?” Sam asks, as if this is a normal conversation to be having.

“Technically it is more of a factory. Niveus Pharmaceuticals. ” Lucifer says.

Sam nods thoughtfully. “We’re going to need firepower, a lot of it. And we need to get the humans out before it blows.”

“I can retrieve whatever you need,” Lucifer says. “And Pestilence must be stopped, too.”

“How do you stop a horseman?” Bobby asks.

“The simplest way is what Dean and Sam did to War and I to Famine—to remove their ring. Without it, they are useless.”

Dean nods. “Fine, you go with Bobby and Cas to the factory, Sam, and me and your boyfriend can go deal with Pestilence.”

Lucifer frowns. “Is there a reason you and I must go together.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah, I want to keep an eye on you. Besides, you wanted a chance to prove yourself to me; killing your henchman will go a way towards that.”

Lucifer doesn’t look pleased, but he doesn’t argue. Sam crosses the room and picks up a pad of paper and pen from the desk. He writes for a moment and then passes the paper to Lucifer. “This is what we’re going to need. Do you think you can get it for us?”

Lucifer skims down the list and nods. “There is an abundance of C4 at a government compound in Nevada. I will go now.” He touches his forehead to Sam’s for a moment, whispers something, and then he is gone.

Sam looks sickeningly disappointed at his exit, and Dean rolls his eyes. “C’mon, loverboy, he’ll be back soon enough. Let’s distract you with some nice research. We need to know where the Niveus guys concoct their viruses.”

xXx

Dean doesn’t particularly like being transported by angel mojo, and he likes it when Lucifer is doing the driving even less. He can’t help but worry Lucifer will drop him into a volcano somewhere. But Lucifer is obliging, and they arrive outside a convalescent home in Davenport, Iowa.

“He’s hanging out here?” Seriously?”

Lucifer nods. “He is Pestilence. Where else would he be?

“I kinda imagined him just living on the road, spreading the plague as he goes.”

Lucifer looks thoughtful. “That would perhaps be his plan if I had not bound him.”

“So, are you going to just ask him nicely for his ring and hope he hands it over?” Dean asks.

“No. He may be bound, but he still has a survival instinct. He will likely become unpleasant. You might want to wait out here.”

Dean shakes his head. “No chance. I need to see you hack the finger off myself. You could come out with any old ring and tell me it’s his.”

Lucifer looks impatient. “You do realize who Pestilence is, don’t you? Just being near him will make you sick.”

“I’ve got a good immune system,” Dean says carelessly. “I can handle it.”

“Very well.”

Lucifer strides off toward the main entrance, and Dean hurries after him. Lucifer swings open the door and gestures Dean in ahead of him. Dean gives him a speculative look. If Lucifer thinks showing basic manners is going to change his mind about him, he’s dead wrong. Dean isn’t a pushover like Sam apparently is.

There are nurses bustling around in pink scrubs, and they cast Lucifer nervous glances. One nurse is braver than the rest, she comes forward. “Can I help you gentlemen?”

Lucifer looks her up and down. “No, I don’t think so.”

He pushes past her and continues up the hall. Dean follows, giving the hurt looking nurse an apologetic look.

They come to a room with a nameplate on the door. It says: Doctor Green. Lucifer pushes open the door and enters.

“Lucifer!” a surprised voice says. “I didn’t know you were coming here. I sent a report. Is there something wrong?”

Dean steps in behind Lucifer and he sees a man with sparse grey hair and glasses. It has to be Pestilence.

“Who is this?” Pestilence asks.

“A friend,” Lucifer says and Dean scoffs. He’s not sure what he is to Lucifer, but it sure as hell isn’t a friend.

Pestilence blinks and looks closer at Dean. “But this is Dean Winchester.” He smiles. “Have you brought him to me as a test subject?”

Dean feels nausea rise in him, and his knees buckle. It becomes hard to draw a breath, and his head pounds.

“What have you done to me?” he asks in a hoarse voice.

Pestilence peers down at him over his glasses. “You don’t look so well. It might be the, uh, scarlet fever. Or, uh, the meningitis. Oh! Or the syphilis. That's no fun.”

“Pestilence, remove your influence at once,” Lucifer says coldly.

Pestilence looks confused. “Why would I do that?”

“Because i am ordering you to,” Lucifer says. “That should be reason enough.”

“Ahh, you see, it really isn’t. I am doing your work for you, Lucifer, but I am not your lapdog. I am not War, who bowed to your every whim, or even Famine. My brothers gave everything to you, and look what happened to them.”

The edges of Dean’s vision greys, and he feels like he’s about to pass out. He has never felt so sick in his life. Even breathing is an effort. It’s all he can do to keep breathing in and out.

“Lucifer, do something,” Dean says in a choked voice. He is so desperate for help that he doesn’t even care that it’s the Devil he is calling on for help.

“Pestilence,” Lucifer says in a warning tone.

“No, Lucifer,” Pestilence says briskly.

Lucifer snaps back his wrist and his blade slips into his hand. Dean hears Pestilence cry out in shock, and then there is the sound of the blade whooshing through the air. Pestilence bellows, and Dean’s face is spattered with blood. A moment later, Dean is being eased to his feet by Lucifer.

“What’s he done to me?” Dean asks weakly.

“He has infected you,” Lucifer says. “Don’t worry, I can heal you.”

Dean isn’t sure he trusts the Devil to do it right, but he doesn’t have it in him to argue. He flinches as Lucifer presses his cold palm to his temple and then warmth rushes through him. His head clears and he steps away from Lucifer.

“What did you do?”

“I healed you,” Lucifer says simply. “Are you feeling well now?”

Dean nods. He looks down at Pestilence. He is rolling around on the floor, clutching a bloody stump where a hand used to be.

“You know, we only needed the finger,” Dean says.

Lucifer shrugs. “I wasn’t feeling precise today. A hand works just as well.” He bends and picks up the lone hand that is on the floor and holds it out to Dean. Would you like to do the honors.

Feeling slightly sickened, Dean pulls the emerald ring from the Pestilence’s finger. “Are we done?” he asks.

Lucifer nods. “Yes.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Dean asks, looking down at the writhing horseman.

“Nothing. I have no need of him anymore. Shall we go to your brother? I believe they will be done with their act of domestic terrorism by now.”

“Hold up, there’s something I want to talk to you about first.”

Lucifer tilts his head to the side. “Of course. Shall I relocate us? His moans are starting to grate on me.”

Pestilence’s moans are annoying Dean, too, so he nods. A moment later they are standing in the middle of what looks like a forest.

“Where are we?” he asks.

“The Black Forest,” Lucifer says. “I thought you would want privacy for our discussion.”

“You brought me to Germany just so we’d have privacy?”

“Of course. I took Sam to an uninhabited island in the middle of the Indian Ocean for us to speak yesterday. This is just one of the things I can offer your brother.”

Dean frowns. “That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Lucifer looks confused. “My travels with your brother?”

“No, well, yes, that too, but more your relationship with him.”

Lucifer looks expectant.

Dean takes a deep breath and tries to marshal his thoughts. He never thought he’d be having the big brother talk with anyone, let alone the Devil.

“You’re on our side,” he says. “I didn’t think you were, but I have to admit, after seeing you take out Pestilence, that you are.”

Lucifer nods. “I truly am. I love your brother, and for him, I am giving up everything I spent millennia plotting.”

“Which brings me to what I want to say next.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Sam is all the family i have left. He’s the most important person in my life.”

“You love him,” Lucifer says.

“Yeah, and I would do anything for him, to protect him. That includes protecting him from you. Now, I accept that you love him, and you want to take care of him, but if that ever changes, if you so much as ruffle a hair on his head, I will hurt you.”

Lucifer smiles. “I understand the sentiment, but you do realize what an ineffectual threat that is, don’t you?”

Dean glares at him. “You might be the Devil, but I am Dean Winchester. You hurt my brother and I will set your ass alight with holy oil faster than you can blink.”

“Message received,” Lucifer says. “Is there anything else?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, one thing. Sammy’s strong, stronger than almost anyone I know, but he has a soft heart. He’s been hurt before, hurt bad, and I don’t want to see that happen to him again.”

“I am aware of Sam’s history. I know what happened to his girlfriend, and I know what that did to him. But I am incapable of hurting him like that. I will never die, Dean. I will never leave him.”

“What about this fight with Michael? He can kill you.”

Lucifer shakes his head. “Michael is useless without a vessel. As long as you keep saying no, Michael cannot threaten me.”

Dean considers that for a moment. He never wanted to give his life up for Michael, but he has even more cause now to say no now. Against his will, he has become the protector of his brother’s lover and therefore his brother. Like life wasn’t already complicated enough.

xXx

Lucifer is pleased that Dean seems to have given him his grudging approval. And while it was almost adorable in its ineffectiveness, his speech about what he would do if Lucifer hurt Sam was equally as pleasing. It was a further sign that Dean had accepted Lucifer for who he was to Sam.

He transports himself and Dean back to Mr. Singer’s house, and they wait for the rest of their party to return. Dean goes to shower, saying something about washing the filth of Pestilence away, and Lucifer sits down on the edge of the desk to wait.

He doesn’t have to wait long. There is the sound of an angel’s approach and then they are there, expect there is something terribly wrong. Sam is being supported by Bobby, and he is bleeding.

Lucifer rushes forward, and takes Sam into his arms. “What happened?” he demands.

“The demons saw us coming,” Bobby says, relinquishing his grip on Sam to Lucifer. “They cracked open a case of Croatoan and there were humans infected. We had to fight our way through. Sam got caught by a human with a knife.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Sam says, cradling his injured arm. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Lucifer eases up the sleeve of Sam’s shirt to see the wound. It’s deep, and would require stitches for a normal person without an archangel at his beck and call.

“You can fix it, right?” Bobby asks.

Lucifer nods and places a hand over the wound. He reaches out with his grace and he feels the wound knitting together under his touch. When he pulls his hand away, there is merely a clear expanse of skin.

“Thanks, Lucifer,” Sam says.

Lucifer smiles and cups Sam’s cheek. “You are most welcome. Though if you were to stop injuring yourself, it would be a weight off my mind.”

Sam smiles and leans into his touch. “How about we don’t separate anymore, then you can keep an eye on me.”

“Even better,” Lucifer says. “Are you feeling well?”

“All fixed up,” Sam says. “How did things go with you?”

“We were successful. Your brother has Pestilence’s ring. I will allow him to tell you all the details.”

Sam nods. “It looks like we have a free afternoon then. What would you like to do?”

“What would _you_ like to do?” Lucifer asks. He doesn’t care what happens next as long as he is with Sam.

Sam considers. “I’m kinda hungry. How about we head into town and get some food and then we can go to Falls Park.”

“A picnic?” Lucifer asks.

Sam looks awkward. “If you think it’s silly...”

“Not at all. I will happily accompany you.”

Sam turns to Bobby. “Can you fill Dean in on where we’re going?”

Bobby nods. “Sure. Do you want to take my car, or are you happy with angel air over there?”

“A car would probably be simpler,” Sam says.

Bobby tosses him a set of keys and Sam catches them. “You ready?” he asks Lucifer.

Lucifer nods and follows him out to the car. He climbs into the passenger seat, and Sam starts the engine. They wind their way through the scrap cars and out onto the road. Sam reaches across the console and takes Lucifer’s hand. Lucifer looks to it and smiles. It has been an eventful day, he thinks. He has overcome Pestilence, earned Dean’s grudging trust, and now he’s going on his ride in an automobile. And he did it all for his Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much! We really love you guys. It’s sad our fun is almost over. Please let us know what you think. Until next time, snarks and clowns.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading!

A month after their defeat of Pestilence and the explosion at the Niveus factory, Sam and Lucifer leave their comfortable motel room in town and head to Bobby’s.

The last four weeks have been the best Sam can remember. They haven’t hunted, as there have been no new cases for them, and he has spent every free minute with Lucifer. He wakes to the angel sitting beside him in the bed, and he falls asleep in Lucifer’s arms. He has never been so happy or at peace, not even in his Stanford days with Jessica. Then, he had been hiding part of himself for her protection and his own, not now; Lucifer knows and loves every part of him, and there are no secrets between them.

Lucifer opens Bobby’s door and gestures for Sam to go in ahead of him. As Sam enters the house, he sees Dean sitting on the edge of the desk eating a bowl of cereal.

“Morning,” Sam says brightly.

Dean nods.

“You want some breakfast?” Bobby calls from the kitchen.

“No thanks. Lucifer brought me pancakes from the diner.”

Dean swallows his mouthful and scoffs. “You’re becoming quite the spoilt brat, you know?”

Sam laughs and pats his stomach. “Yep. Jealous?”

“As if,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “What are you two doing here so early anyway?”

“Lucifer woke me early,” Sam says.

Dean pretends to gag. “I don’t need to know that stuff, Sam.”

Sam grins. “It wasn’t _that_. Apparently, angel chatter was loud. He woke me complaining about it.”

“What’s up with that?” Dean asks Lucifer. “Something big happening?”

Lucifer shrugs. “I tuned it out soon after it started. I merely know something has my brothers excited.”

Castiel arrives then, and he moves directly to Lucifer. “Did you hear?”

Lucifer nods. “Some. I tuned it out fast, though. I have no desire to hear them congratulating each other on their own brilliance.”

Castiel frowns. “I could not hear it clearly. Since my fall, I have been excluded from their discussion. I was reliant on you to hear.

Sam sidles up beside Lucifer and entwines their hands. “Why do we even want to hear? Why does it matter?”

“Because it could be important, Sam,” Castiel says impatiently. “The last time the communication in Heaven was so loud was the day I raised Dean from Perdition.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “It’s important.” He turns to Lucifer. “Can you tune in and see what’s got them so jumpy?”

“I wouldn’t bother,” a familiar and hated voice says. “It’s all a bunch of self congratulation going on at the moment. It’s all a bit ridiculous if you ask me.”

Sam spins around, and he sees the Trickster sitting on the edge of Bobby’s countertop. He scowls. He doesn’t care that it’s apparently Lucifer’s brother, the archangel Gabriel. To Sam, he will always be the Trickster, the creature that forced him to watch his brother die over and over again.

“Gabriel.” Lucifer smiles at his brother. “What can we do for you?”

“I bring you tidings, dear brother.”

Dean snorts. “Of great joy?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “Depends on your point of view. Now, first things first, why didn’t I know you had a baby brother? Other than Gigantor over there, of course.”

“Adam?” Sam says. “What’s he got to do with anything?”

“He’s got something to do with _everything_ ,” Gabriel says. He scoots off the counter and walks into the study. “It seems he has risen again. Bit cliché if you ask me. Like that’s never happened before. Hell, you two”—he gestures between Sam and Dean—”do it so often it’s practically commonplace.”

“What are you here to say, Gabriel?” Lucifer asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Gabriel turns to look at Lucifer, and the bright smile he has been sporting fades. “He’s coming for you, Lucifer.”

Lucifer takes an automatic step back. “But Dean hasn’t... The brother?”

Gabriel nods. “Freshly risen for the occasion.”

“What’s happening, Lucifer?” Sam asks. He’s worried now. Lucifer looks nervous.

“Michael is coming,” Lucifer says heavily. “He has taken your brother, Adam, as a vessel, and he is coming for me.”

“But he can’t!” Sam says. “Dean is his vessel.”

“Technically, it’s a bloodline thing. Anyone of your father’s line will do,” Gabriel says.

“How do you know this?” Lucifer asks.

“I heard the chatter this morning, so I made a quick trip home. You should have seen their faces. Michael’s especially was something to savor.”

“You went to Heaven?” Lucifer asks incredulously.

Gabriel nods. “Yes, and I arrived in time to see the news coming in live. Adam has been raised. It’s all down to that malignant meddler Zachariah.”

Dean curses. “I knew there was a reason I hated that guy.”

Gabriel nods. “You’re not the only one, Deano. We all hate him, but he’s smart, which is the problem. Your little brother is primed and ready for vessel duty which means...”

“Michael is coming for me,” Lucifer says.

“No!” Sam shakes his head jerkily. “He can’t do that!”

Sam’s mind reels. He can’t think. Michael coming for Lucifer. That can’t be true. It just can’t. Lucifer is good now. Why would Michael want to kill him?

“Doesn’t he know about Lucifer’s change of heart?” Dean asks. “There’s no need for him to go smiting now.”

Sam lifts his head hopefully. “Does he know?”

Gabriel nods. “He knows, and it doesn’t change anything. You must understand, Michael isn’t concerned with protecting the world from Lucifer—this fight will destroy half the planet. He is doing it because he believes it is what our father wants him to do.”

Sam feels like he has been punched in the gut. All he believed of Heaven and Hell and angels has been destroyed over the past few years, but he’s never lost faith in a merciful God, until now. What kind of God would demand Lucifer be killed when he has renounced evil?

Lucifer guides Sam to a chair and sits him down just in time, as Sam’s legs seem to have given up their task of holding him upright. He stands beside him, resting a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Bobby asks in a breathless voice.

Gabriel stares at Lucifer and a moment of communication passes between them.

“No,” Lucifer says brutally. “I must fight him.”

“But the world will be destroyed,” Dean says. “There has to be another way.”

“There is,” Gabriel says. “You can use the rings...”

“I tell you no!” Lucifer shouts. “I’m not doing that again.”

“Lucifer, I know it’s hard, but you have to see—”

“I said no!” Lucifer bellows. He releases Sam’s shoulder and he marches out of the house.

“Lucifer?” Sam gets to his feet and makes to follow, but Dean lays a hand on his arm.

“Just give him a minute,” he says.

Outside, there is a crack of thunder and rain begins to pelt the windows.

“Could someone explain what’s going on, please?” Bobby says. “‘Cause other than the fact the boys’ brother has been taken as a vessel, I didn’t understand a word of that.”

Gabriel sighs and flops down onto a chair, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand, he speaks. “Michael has his vessel, which means he is now, or soon will be, coming for Lucifer.” He shoots Sam a sympathetic look. “He doesn’t care that Lucifer is now housetrained. He thinks he’s on a holy mission.”

“What’s this about rings?” Dean asks.

Gabriel taps his chin. “That’s where things get a little... awkward. The horsemen’s ring can reopen the cage Sam freed Lucifer from. Lucifer can go back to Hell, therefore cancelling Michael’s holy mission.”

Sam shakes his head jerkily. “No. He’s not doing that!”

“Sammy, what other option do we have?” Dean asks. “If Michael and Lucifer fight, it will destroy half the world.”

“No,” Sam says angrily. He gets to his feet and goes to the door. Throwing it open, he marches out onto the porch and pounds down the stairs.

He thinks Dean gets up to follow, as he hears Bobby’s voice. “No, Dean, leave him be.”

xXx

Lucifer doesn’t go far. He can’t bear to be apart from Sam, but he has to be away to vent his fury before it results in Sam getting hurt. The storm comes, and he is quickly drenched to the skin. He cares not; it makes no difference to him.

He cannot go back to the cage. The cage is to be alone, to be without Sam. The very thought of it is abhorrent.

He clenches his fists and a bolt of lightning touches down on the ground in front of him. He realizes he is being careless, the house could be hit, and he tries to tamp down his fury. The lightning ceases, but the rain continues.

He hears the door slam and then Sam’s voice calling out to him. “Lucifer! Lucifer, please!

He steps around a stack of cars and sees Sam running down the steps, his eyes roving, looking for Lucifer.

“I’m here,” he says gently.

Sam runs to him and falls into his open arms. “I’m sorry,” Sam says. “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Lucifer says, stroking Sam’s back. “None of this is your fault.”

Sam leans back to look him in the eye. “It feels like my fault. Like I should have known. I didn’t even think of Adam. I thought it had to be Dean or no one.”

Lucifer cups Sam’s face in one hand and runs the pad of his thumb over his cheek. “You weren’t to know. I didn’t. I never imagined Michael’s vendetta would continue when I renounced the apocalypse. I thought he would be satisfied.”

“What can we do?” Sam asks. “Can we run? We could go now. We can stay on the run.”

Lucifer smiles. “You would do that? Give up your family, your life, for me?”

Sam nods. “Of course.”

Lucifer is overwhelmed with love for Sam. It fills him. No one has ever offered to give him themselves in the way Sam has. No one has loved him like this before.

“I cannot ask you to do that,” Lucifer says. “Besides, it will not work. Michael will seek me wherever I go. Sooner or later, he will find me.”

“Then what do we do?” Sam asks desperately.

Lucifer sighs. He knows there are only two options, to meet Michael on the battlefield or to banish himself to the cage again. To do one would be to break the heart of the man he loves, and to do the other would be to break himself. He can’t go back to the cage. He can’t. He would rather die.

He looks into Sam’s wide trusting eyes, and he knows the choice is made for him without his consent. Sam believes he is a good person now. Everything he is trying to be now is to emulate Sam. He knows what Sam would do if in his position. It’s what Sam would never ask Lucifer to do for him, even though he needs it.

He must banish himself back to the cage.

To fight Michael would be to risk the destruction of the earth, and that act would destroy Sam. He has given everything to protecting others; Lucifer must follow his example and give himself to protect the man he loves. He couldn’t care less about the rest of the world. They can burn for all he cares. What matters now is Sam and what Sam needs him to do.

“We cannot run and I cannot fight,” he says gently.

Sam nods. “I know, but we have no choice.”

Lucifer smiles wryly. Sam doesn’t even consider Lucifer going back to the cage. It doesn’t register with him as an option. He loves Lucifer so much that he doesn’t even think of it, despite it being the only viable option for humankind. That is why Lucifer has to do it, to protect Sam.

“I must return to the cage,” he says heavily.

Sam jerks back from him. “No!”

“Sam, you must see. It’s the only way.”

Sam shakes his head jerkily. “You can’t leave me.”

Lucifer reaches for Sam, but Sam flinches away from his touch. “Sam, please.”

“No, Lucifer!” Sam says brutally. “We have to find another way. We can talk to Michael. Explain that things are different now. We can...”

For the first time since taking on this vessel, Lucifer understands the expression ‘heartbreaking’. As he can feel it. His heart is breaking as he watches Sam struggle to find a solution.

“There has to be something we can do!” Sam says plaintively.

“I wish there was,” Lucifer says. “You don’t know how much I wish that. But there isn’t. I cannot go to Michael. When we meet, we fight, that’s all there is to it. Michael will not give me a chance to explain.”

“But I could...”

Lucifer presses a finger to Sam’s mouth, halting the flow of words. “There is nothing we can do, Sam.”

Sam blinks and a tear rolls down his cheek. “This isn’t fair. You’ve changed. Why can’t he see that?”

Lucifer presses his forehead to Sam’s. “Because he is a good son that does as he is ordered. Many millennia ago, Michael was given the task of being my jailer, and he is devoted to that order.”

“He’s a dick,” Sam says bitterly.

Lucifer chuckles. “I don’t disagree. Now, calm yourself down. We should go back inside. You’re going to get sick standing out here in the rain.”

Sam nods and wipes at his face. “Okay. Do we... When do we have to do this? How much time do we have?”

“A few days maybe.”

Sam moans. “That’s not long enough.”

“It will have to be. There are things that we must do. I need Death’s ring.”

“Not today,” Sam pleads. “Can’t we just go somewhere together? Just us. I don’t want to be with people now.”

“As you wish. Let’s just speak to your brother, explain what’s happening, and then we can go away together. The world is at your feet. Where would you like to go?”

Sam considers for a moment, but only one place comes to mind. “Membata.”

Lucifer nods. “Membata it is.”

Lucifer takes Sam’s hand and he leads him back to the house. He has to guide Sam, as he seems to be on autopilot. Lucifer is needed to be the strong one when he feels the furthest thing from strong. He is going back to the cage and leaving Sam behind. The thought of it terrifies him.

xXx

It’s late, and Sam and Lucifer are sitting on the beach and waiting for the sun to reach the horizon. They have spent the day alone on the island, both of them trying to ignore what’s happening and concentrating on being together.

As the sun reaches the horizon, Sam leans back on his elbows and looks into Lucifer’s eyes. He is surrounded by light from the sinking sun, creating a halo around his head. He has never seemed more ethereal or beautiful to Sam. He looks like the angel he is, and Sam wonders for perhaps the hundredth time what kind of god could demand this sacrifice of his own son.

“What are you thinking?” Lucifer asks, tracing a finger over Sam’s cheek and across his lips. “You seem deep in thought.”

“I was thinking that you are an angel,” Sam says.

Lucifer laughs. “You knew that already. A fallen angel I may be, but I am still an angel.”

Sam smiles sadly and nods. “I meant in the cliché human sense. You are my angel. You have done so much for me, and now...”

“Now I have to leave you,” Lucifer says.

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about that now. Can we just... I don’t know... pretend?”

Lucifer nods and leans back on one elbow facing Sam. “If that is what you want, of course we can pretend.”

Sam moves closer to Lucifer and lays down flat on the sand, looking up into Lucifer’s face. “It’s been perfect, being here with you. I wish we could do this forever.”

Lucifer nods. “There are many things I wish I could show you. We have the world and time to travel, but no time to do it.”

Sam frowns. “Pretending, remember? Tell me where you would take me.”

Lucifer smiles. “I want to show you the world as it was before humanity took over. Whole continents with nothing but nature. We could travel anywhere and everywhere, seeing whoever you wish to see.”

Sam smiles sadly. “That sounds nice. You know, for all the travelling Dean and I do, I’ve hardly seen anything of the world. I’ve never even seen the Grand Canyon.”

“I will show it to you,” Lucifer promises. “And every other wonder you can think of.”

Sam knows this will never happen, they are just pretending, but he closes his eyes and lets Lucifer whisper to him about all the places they will go.

When the sun sinks fully and stars come out in its place, they lay back together with their hands entwined staring up at the heavens. When Sam gets cold, Lucifer builds him a driftwood fire and they sit curled around each other, staring into the flames.

And later, when Lucifer leans over Sam and kisses him, Sam allows him to take control and to make him forget that this isn’t just a night, it’s their last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm ... Sorry?


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading!

“You want me to give you my ring?” Death asks incredulously. “ _My_ ring.”

Lucifer nods coldly. “I have need of it.”

“You can only have one use for my ring, and I cannot imagine you are prepared to use it for that. Unless...” Death raises an eyebrow. “Can it be him?”

Lucifer looks out of the window to where Sam is standing with Dean and Castiel. He is trying not to peer through the window, Lucifer can tell, but his eyes stray occasionally. Dean is talking, possibly trying to distract Sam, but Sam doesn’t seem to be paying him any attention.

Death laughs. “I heard that you were changed. When you called me off from South Dakota, I wondered, but I never imagined it was this firmly cast.

“I don’t have time to indulge your curiosities, Death. I am working against the clock.”

“You will make time for me, Lucifer. You may have bound me, but do not forget who you are talking to. I am not like the others; you cannot defeat me by chopping off my hand. I am eternal.”

“I am aware of it,” Lucifer says. “Which is why I am asking.”

Death steeples his fingers under his chin. “I am tempted to give you what you ask, but first you will appease my curiosity. Who is he?”

“His name is Sam,” Lucifer says fondly.

Death’s lips curve into a slow smile. “Your vessel. How poetic. I would like to meet him.”

Lucifer stiffens. “That will not happen.”

He doesn’t want Death anywhere near Sam. He hates that Sam insisted on coming to Chicago with him, but given what was to come, he had no heart to deny him. Every moment with Sam was precious now.

Death sits back in his seat and pushes the plate of half-eaten pizza away. “I will meet him, Lucifer. Whether by your will or not.”

“You are bound to me,” Lucifer says.

“Yes, by some unseemly little spell. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead, you can command me to do that for you, but you haven’t stolen my will. Besides, if you have come for my ring, it means you will not be here to control me much longer.”

Lucifer’s hand slaps down on the table. “You will not touch him.”

Death shakes his head. “And how are you to stop me when you are gone? Bring him to me, Lucifer, and I shall give _him_ my ring.”

“Why him?” Lucifer asks.

Death swirls the ring on his finger. “Because he is deserving of it. You, on the other hand, are not.”

Sam is peering through the window again, and worry is creasing his brow. Against his will, Lucifer gestures for him to come inside. Sam looks relieved, and he quickly enters the restaurant and comes to stand beside Lucifer. His hand brushes against Lucifer’s, and Lucifer curls his finger around Sam’s to comfort him. He knows this has to be daunting for Sam but to his credit, his hand is steady.

“Sam, this is Death,” Lucifer says gently.

Sam nods and Death smiles.

“It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Sam. I have heard much about you.”

Sam looks down at his feet. He hasn’t spoken, and Lucifer thinks he is too intimidated to try.

“Now, I hear you want this,” Death says holding up his hand. “And I am inclined to give it to you, Sam.”

Sam looks up. “Me?”

Death nods. “Yes, you. I see that you have earned it, taming Lucifer the way you have.”

Lucifer stiffens. Death is taking extraordinary liberties here.

“So, are you going to give it to me?” Sam says boldly, and Lucifer smiles. Sam has found his confidence at last.

Death takes the ring from his finger and lays it in the palm of his hand. “I am.”

Sam holds out his hand, and Death tilts his palm so the ring drops onto Sam’s.

“That is a very powerful thing you now hold in your hand, Sam Winchester,” Death says. “Do not forget that.”

Sam nods. “I won’t.”

Lucifer rubs his thumb over the back of Sam’s hand. They are done here now. They have the ring; the last piece of the puzzle is in place. He is on a path now that there is no return from.

Death gets to his feet and bows to Sam and Lucifer. “I will take my leave now.”

Lucifer nods and watches Death sweep from the room. Sam sighs as he disappears through the door.

“Are you okay?” Lucifer asks.

Sam nods. “Yeah. That was just a little... Wow. Death.”

Lucifer smiles. “He liked you.”

Sam shudders. “Which is all kinds of creepy.”

Lucifer raises their entwined hands and kisses Sam’s fingertips. “Come, your brother is worried.”

They go out to the street where Dean and Castiel are waiting, and then, leaving only a faint rustling sound behind, they are gone, too.

xXx

Dean perches on the edge of Bobby’s desk and watches Sam as he works at the counter making coffee. His movements are a little jerky, as if his whole body is tensed. Dean suspects Sam is getting a little leaky around the eyes, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to it.

Lucifer is watching him, too, with an oddly serene expression. Dean doesn’t understand it. If he was in Lucifer’s position, he would be sweating bullets right now. But Lucifer looks the same way he always does when he’s with Sam—oddly content.

Dean has to admit that he has underestimated Lucifer. He never believed he could make such a sacrifice. He is under no disillusions that he’s doing it for the good of humanity. This sacrifice is for Sam and no one else.

Dean watches Sam brace himself against the counter for a moment and then rub at his face before turning and smiling. His eyes are red and his cheeks puffy, and Dean knows he was right in thinking Sam had been crying. He can’t imagine what his brother is going through at the moment. Dean has never loved someone the way Sam loves Lucifer. Nor has he ever been loved the way Sam is. He can’t imagine how it must feel for Sam to know what Lucifer is going to do. He knows his brother is going to need him more than ever in the coming days, and he hopes Sam will accept his help.

Sam hands him a coffee and Dean accepts it with a smile and nod of thanks.

Sam leans against the wall beside Lucifer, and Lucifer automatically shifts so he and Sam are pressed against each other, shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip. It’s like they can't be close enough to each other. The closer it gets to time, the more they cling together.

“So,” Bobby says. “I hate to bring this up, but what happens next?”

Lucifer looks up and starts as if he had been deep in thought. He possibly had. He certainly had enough to think about.

“We have a little time,” Lucifer says. “Maybe a couple of days. I will need to perform the ritual that opens the cage, and then I must... I suppose you could call it a leap of faith.”

Bobby nods thoughtfully. “How much damage are we talking here? What will happen to the world when the cage is open?”

“Nothing,” Lucifer says. “A hole will open, and I must step in, that’s all.”

“You sure?” Dean asks. “When the Devil’s Gate opened in Wyoming, all kinds of demons escaped.”

“This is different,” Lucifer says. “This is a door direct to my cage. No demons can enter or exit the cage. I was its sole inhabitant.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” Bobby says, scrubbing a hand through his beard. “‘Cause last time that didn’t work out so well.”

“Do we...” Sam clears his throat. “Where do we do this? Do we have to go back to Maryland?”

Lucifer shakes his head. “No, Sam, we don’t need to go back there. The location is incidental. I could do it in Bobby’s backyard and it would be safe.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “I think I will go to Stull to do it.

“Stull?” The name teases at Dean’s mind. He knows it from somewhere. “That's an old bone yard outside of Lawrence. Why Lawrence?”

Lucifer shrugs. “That is where the battle between myself and Michael is foretold to be. It would be poetic to do it there.”

Sam nods as if the location doesn’t matter to him. Dean supposes it doesn’t. For Sam, only the end result matters, and that end result will tear him away from the person he loves. Dean wishes he could go back and change things. He wishes he could somehow stop Sam from going to Lucifer in the first place. Then they would never have fallen in love, and Sam wouldn’t be on the brink of seeing his whole world destroyed.

Lucifer turns to Sam. “Would you like to go somewhere? We have prepared everything we need to. We have a little time.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Lucifer,” a voice says.

Dean turns and sees Gabriel leaning against the counter. What is it with this guy and the dramatic entrances? Has he never heard of knocking?

“What do you mean?” Sam asks, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Dean doesn’t know if it’s because of the news Gabriel is bringing or because he is fighting against the urge to attack him. Dean has never known anyone that Sam has hated as much as the Trickster.

“I mean Michael is on his way, cream puff.” Gabriel turns to Lucifer. “I have delayed him as long as I can, but there are only so many distractions Michael will take. He’s coming for you now, brother.”

Sam visibly crumples. His face sags and he bows at the waist. Lucifer grips him around the shoulders and pulls him against his chest. He whispers words that Dean cannot hear. He supposes they are supposed to be soothing, but they do nothing to calm Sam. He is shaking his head jerkily.

“Very well,” Lucifer says. “We must leave now.”

In response, Sam moans, and Lucifer cups his cheeks in his hands. “It is time, Sam. We cannot delay or Michael will attempt to prevent me from opening the cage.”

Dean turns away; he can’t bear to see his brother hurting like this, knowing that is only going to get worse.

“We should call Castiel,” Lucifer says. “We cannot take the time to drive to Kansas, and you will need a way to get back here... after.”

“Good thinking,” Gabriel says. “I’ve got to jet. I’m going to see if I can trip Michael on the way out of the door. It might buy you a little time.”

Dean raises his eyes. “Cas, we need you, buddy. Time’s up.”

xXx

They arrive outside the rusted gates of the cemetery, and Dean and Castiel hang back as Lucifer takes Sam’s hand and leads him inside.

Sam grips Lucifer’s hand tight, as if by holding onto him he can stop what he is about to do. He is scared, more scared than he has ever been in his life. The idea of what is coming terrifies him. He tries to block the thoughts from his mind, concentrating on the physical, like Lucifer’s hand in his own, but it doesn’t work. The thoughts batter at his mind. He is here for one reason and one reason only. To say goodbye to Lucifer.

They come to the center of the graveyard, and Lucifer stops. Sam looks down at the ground. This is where it will happen, where he will have to say goodbye.

Lucifer puts a finger under Sam’s chin and lifts his face so he can look him in the eye. “It will be okay, Sam,” he says gently.

“I’m scared,” Sam says in a voice choked with emotion.

“I know you are, but it will all be over soon.”

“That’s what scares me.”

Tears begin to fall in earnest, and Sam makes no attempt to stem their flow. His heart is breaking; it is right that he is crying.

Lucifer steps closer to him and kisses his tears away. “Don’t cry, Sam. Please, don’t cry.”

Sam sniffs and tries to control himself. He forces a smile, which makes Lucifer look at him sympathetically.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“How?” Sam asks. “You’re leaving me. There is nothing okay about that.”

“You will be fine. You have Dean and Bobby and Castiel to look after you. I trust them to take care of you. I could never leave if I didn’t believe that.”

Sam shakes his head. “I need you though.”

“No, you don’t. You’re strong, Sam. Stronger than I could ever be. You will go on with your life, saving people with your brother, and I will be forgotten.”

“I will never forget you.” Sam can’t believe Lucifer would believe him capable of that. As if he could ever forget the man he loves with a depth he has never felt before in his life.

“Forget is the wrong word,” Lucifer admits. “I mean that you will be able to move on from me. You will find a way. I can never do that. I will love you forever, and in the cage, forever means something you cannot comprehend. Take comfort in that, Sam. You will be forever loved.”

Tears begin to fall again, and Sam fists them away. “There has to be some other way.”

“There isn’t” Lucifer says, cradling Sam’s face in his hands. “This is the only way.”

Suddenly, an idea occurs to Sam. A wonderful, bright, shining idea. He does not need to be parted from Lucifer. Something Lucifer said to him what feels like a lifetime ago. comes to him ‘ _If you say yes to me, we will be together forever. We will reside in the same body, your spirit and my own, together.’_

“I can come with you,” Sam says. “You told me, if I say yes to you now, we can be together forever.”

Lucifer looks like he is fighting tears. “You would do that for me?”

Sam nods jerkily. “I have to.” It is the only solution he can think of, and it is perfect. They will never be parted by distance or time or death. They can have an eternity together.

Lucifer presses a kiss to Sam’s lips and steps back. Sam reaches for him instinctively. “Lucifer?”

“I cannot do it,” he says. “I cannot steal your life like that.”

“You’re not stealing, I’m offering,” Sam says. “No, I’m begging. Please, Lucifer, do this for me.”

Lucifer looks pained. “I would give you anything in the world, but I cannot give you this. It is wrong of me to even want it.”

“Why?” Sam asks tearfully. “Don’t you want me?”

Lucifer steps forward and grips the back of Sam’s neck. “I want this so much that it is all I can think about, I want _you_ so much, but I cannot do this. Look over there.” He points to where Dean and Castiel are standing. “That’s your family, Sam. You cannot leave them behind.”

“I can,” Sam says.

“But your brother...”

“I love Dean, I will always love him, but I love you more. I want to be with you. I can do this.”

“I cannot,” Lucifer says sadly. “Your brother placed his trust in me after we dealt with Pestilence. He trusted me with you. I cannot steal you away from him now. You have a life to live, Sam. A great one. Go on and live it.”

Sobs overtake Sam, and he cannot contain them. He bows his head and his shoulders shake. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know,” Lucifer says. “It will be okay.”

He takes the rings from his pocket and, like pieces of a puzzle, he clicks them together. He examines them thoughtfully for a moment, and the tosses them onto the ground.

“Lucifer, please,” Sam says through his broken sobs.

Lucifer lifts Sam’s face and stares into his eyes. “I love you, Sam. I will always love you. Please don’t forget me.”

“Never,” Sam vows. “I promise.”

Lucifer kisses him, and though it’s one kiss among hundreds they have shared, it’s different. It is filled with all the things they cannot say to one another. It’s their last kiss.

“I love you so much,” Lucifer says.

“I love you, too,” Sam chokes.

Lucifer cups Sam’s face in his hands again, staring into his eyes as if memorizing them, and then he steps away. He stands by the rings and chants something in enochian.

It’s as if a whirlwind is tearing through their clearing. The earth opens and a swirling vortex appears.

Lucifer takes one last searching look at Sam, and then he jumps gracefully into the hole.

Sam’s eyes blur with tears, and he doesn’t see what happens next. All he knows it that when his eyes, clear the hole is gone, as is Lucifer. The rings sit inconsequentially on the ground, looking perfectly harmless.

Sam drops to his knees and howls out his pain. His forehead presses against the grass where the rings lie, and he gives full voice to the crushing pain he is experiencing.

A hand rests on his shoulder and a voice whispers in his ear, but Sam pays them no attention.

All that matters is the overwhelming truth, and the truth is that Lucifer is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs and hides*


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading!

Dean has never felt so useless in his life. Sam is literally brought to his knees by grief and all he can do is watch. He kneels beside Sam and puts an arm around him shoulders, but Sam shrugs him off with a moan of, “No!”

“Come on, Sammy. We can’t stay here,” Dean says. “Michael might come.”

Sam shakes his head and his hands come out to grip the grass and dirt. “I don’t care.”

“He can kill you, Sam,” Castiel says. “You no longer have the protection of being Lucifer’s vessel. He might smite you in revenge.”

Sam raises his tear-streaked face to look at Castiel. “You’re not saying anything to make me want to leave, Cas. If Michael wants to kill me, he can come do it. I’ll thank him.”

Dean feels like he has been punched in the gut. “You don’t mean that,” he says in a breathless voice. “You can’t.”

Sam just looks down at the ground again.

“Sam!” Dean barks, dropping to his knees in front of Sam and grabbing his brother’s shoulders. He forces Sam upright so he can look at him. “I don’t want to hear that bullshit from you, okay?”

Sam refuses to meet his eye. He just stares down at the ground.

“Sammy, I mean it,” Dean says. “I don’t want to hear that talk from you.”

He can’t even comprehend what Sam’s going through, but he can’t think about Sam dying. He just can’t. He has lived in that world before, after Cold Oak, and he cannot allow his mind to go there again. He’s barely hanging on as it is. Seeing his brother suffering has always done this to him.

“Cas, man, help me get him up,” Dean says.

Unable to resist Castiel’s pure strength, Sam is eased to his feet. He bends down again and picks up the rings that had opened the cage. He clutches them to his chest as if they are something precious. Dean guesses they are. They are the last thing he has of Lucifer. Dean doesn’t think Sam even has a picture of the man he loved.

Castiel supports Sam with a hand at his elbow, and at Dean’s nod, he returns them to Bobby’s house.

The journey seems to steal the last of Sam’s strength. Perhaps because he is away from where he last saw Lucifer, but for whatever reason, his knees buckle and Castiel supports him as Dean eases a chair under him.

Bobby looks expectantly at Dean, and Dean nods. It is over. Lucifer did it. They are safe.

Bobby nods and then looks sadly over at Sam who is bowed over in the hard chair he is sitting on, clutching the rings to his chest with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I think we could all use a drink,” Bobby says, crossing to the kitchen and pulling glasses out of the cupboard. He pours them each a measure of whiskey and hands the glasses round. Sam ignores him as he tries to hand him his glass.

“Come on, Sam. It might help,” Dean says then immediately curses himself. How can a drink make anything better for Sam? What Sam needs is Lucifer, and he’s gone

Sam doesn’t even react to Dean’s words. It’s like he hasn’t heard him.

Dean drinks his own whiskey down in a gulp and places the glass on the table. He has to do something for his brother, anything. The only thing he can think to do is clean him up a little. He goes to the bathroom and fetches a washcloth and a bowl of water. Going back into the study, he sets the bowl down on the table and reaches for Sam’s grass and dirt stained hands. Sam lets him take his hands one at a time and wipe the dirt away. Dean doesn’t think Sam is even aware of him. He seems to have moved into a stage of pain that is making him oblivious to everything happening around him.

“Sammy,” he says gently. “Do you want to get changed?”

Sam doesn’t even blink in response.

Dean is freaked out. Sam is unnaturally still now. His breaths have changed from the hitching gasps to steady inhales and exhales. The tears continue to stream down his cheeks though.

“Do you wanna lie down or something?” Bobby asks.

Sam makes no response. Dean crouches down on the floor in front of Sam and tilts his head so he is in his brother’s line of sight.

“Sammy, you gotta talk to us.”

“I want to go home,” Sam says tonelessly.

Dean frowns. He is home, or at least the closest thing to a home they have outside of the Impala, and Dean doesn’t think he means he wants to go to the car.

“You are home, boy,” Bobby says. “Why don’t you go lie down for a while. Your bed’s where you left it.”

Sam shakes his head. “I want to go back to the motel.”

Bobby looks stunned, but Dean understands. It may have only been theirs for a matter of weeks, but the motel in town is where Sam and Lucifer were last together. It makes sense for Sam to want to be there now.

“I can take you,” Castiel offers.

Sam nods. “Okay.”

He gets to his feet, still clutching the rings, and looks to Castiel.

Dean gives Castiel a look that plainly says he’s going along for the ride, and Castiel nods.

A moment later, they are in a shabby looking motel room Dean has never been in before, though it looks like a hundred others he has stayed in over the years, if a little cleaner.

Sam throws himself down onto the bed and pulls his knees up to his chest. Dean sits behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder. He is at a loss to know what to do to help Sam, but he wants him to know he’s there.

“Sammy,” he says. “Do you need anything?”

“I want to be alone,” Sam says in a hoarse voice.

“I’m not leaving you here alone,” Dean says.

Sam turns and looks Dean in the eye.

“Please, Dean. I just want to be alone. Please let me be alone.”

Dean can’t deny him, not when his eyes are pleading with him to understand. If Dean was in Sam’s position, he would want to be alone, too. He nods, squeeze Sam’s shoulder, and then he gets to his feet.

“You want me to get a room nearby in case?” he asks.

Sam shakes his head. “No, I’ll be fine. If I need you, I’ll...”

“Call me,” Castiel says. “And I will come.”

Sam nods, and a single tear slips down his cheek. “I will.”

Dean gives Sam one last searching look, and then he follows Castiel out the door.

xXx

Dean jerks awake in the middle on the night in a cold sweat. He is halfway down the stairs before he’s even aware that he’s in motion.

“Cas!” he bellows. “I need you.”

He hears Bobby come running out of his room and following him down the stairs.

“Dean, what is it?” he asks.

Dean doesn’t answer. He’s already in the study, and he’s spinning on his heel looking around for Castiel.

“Cas, man, seriously!”

Bobby grabs his shoulders and turns him. “What’s wrong?”

“Sammy! I saw... I dreamed... We’ve got to check on him!”

Dean can’t put his dream into words. That would be to make it real. He can’t bear to explain how he saw his brother laid out on the bed, drenched in blood, with wide staring eyes. He can’t bear to explain the deep slashes on Sam’s arms or the way his chest was still.

“I am here,” Castiel’s voice comes from behind him. “What do you need?”

“Has Sam called you at all?” Dean demands.

Castiel shakes his head. “No. I have been listening, though.”

Dean curses. “You got to take me over there, Cas. I’m worried something’s happened to him.”

“Of course,” Castiel says. He grips Dean’s arm, and a moment later, they are in Sam’s motel room.

Dean feels a wave of instant relief upon seeing Sam curled up on the bed, which turns to unease when he notices Sam’s position. He hasn’t moved an inch since they left him. He is awake, his eyes are wide and staring, but he doesn’t react to their presence at all.

“Sam?” Dean says, dropping down beside the bed. “You okay, man?”

Sam blinks and his eyes move slowly from the wall to look at Dean. His shoulders shrug in a barely discernible movement.

Dean grips his arm. “We’re gonna take you back to Bobby’s, okay?”

Again, Sam shrugs. He allows Dean to pull his legs around so he is sitting on the edge of the bed and then to ease him to his feet.

It’s like moving a mannequin, Dean thinks. Sam doesn’t resist his movements; he just allows himself to be shifted into what Dean wants him to be. It’s unnatural, and it creeps Dean out.

“Cas, man, you can take us back now,” Dean says, gripping Sam’s arm.

Bobby is waiting for them when they get back, pacing between the study and the kitchen. He looks up with relief when he sees Sam, and then concern creases his brow as he takes in Sam’s blank expression.

“You okay, boy?” he asks.

Sam nods in that same mechanical way that Dean hates.

“You gotta be tired,” Dean says. “Let’s get you up to bed.”

Sam nods and allows himself to be led up the stairs and into the room with the two beds that he and Dean share. He falls onto the bed, and draws his knees up to his chest.

“You want to get changed?” Dean asks. “You can’t be very comfortable in your jeans.”

Sam shakes his head.

Dean squats down beside him and looks into his brother’s blank eyes. “You’ve gotta talk to me, Sammy. You’re scaring me.”

“I’m fine,” Sam says tonelessly.

“You need anything? Something to eat? A drink?”

Sam shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

Dean isn’t sure if he hadn’t preferred it when his brother was being silent. Hearing him talking in that toneless voice, devoid of any emotion, is freaky.

“Okay then. You close your eyes and get some sleep.”

Sam dutifully closes his eyes, but Dean doesn’t believe he is sleeping. He is just doing what he is told.

Dean gets into his own bed and pillows his head against his arm. He doesn’t think he will get any sleep that night. He’s going to be too distracted with watching over his brother.

xXx

Things don’t get any better in the days that follow. Dean can relax slightly, as he has his brother with him where he can keep an eye on him, but he is still wound tighter than he has ever been before.

Living with Sam is like living with a stranger that has overtaken his brother’s body. He moves silently from room to room, eating when he is told to, closing his eyes and lying still at night, but Dean doesn’t think he’s really sleeping, because as days pass, the shadows under Sam’s eyes darken.

Dean wakes up on the Friday morning, and he looks over at Sam lying on his bed. “You awake, Sam?”

Sam’s eyes snap open and he nods.

“You want the first shower?” Dean asks.

Sam nods and climbs out of bed. He picks up a set of clean clothes from the pile at the end of his bed and stumbles out of the room. A moment later, Dean hears the shower start up. He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. He wakes every morning hoping that today will be the day that snaps Sam out of it, but it doesn’t happen.

He makes his way downstairs to the kitchen. Bobby is sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in front of him. He nods to Dean as he comes in. Dean fill his own mug of coffee and sits down at the table opposite Bobby.

They sit in silence for a while, and then Bobby speaks. “How is he?” he asks.

“The same,” Dean says.

Bobby exhales heavily. “It’s been a week, Dean. Do you think it’s time we got him some help?”

Dean stiffens. “He doesn’t need help, Bobby. He just needs time.”

“Time’s not done him any good so far,” Bobby says. “Maybe he needs professional help.”

Dean has thought of this himself before, but he will not do it. Sam doesn’t need strangers trying to get into his head, making him talk about what’s happened to him.

“What’s he supposed to say, Bobby, I’m depressed because my lover cast himself back into Hell for the sake of the world? No, it’s not happening. He’s got all the help he needs here.”

“I know you don’t like to hear it, but we can’t give him the help he needs,” Bobby says. “He’s not well.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean snaps. “Believe me, Bobby, I know what he needs, and it’s his family. He’ll come out of this eventually, in his own time.”

“Dean...”

“No, Bobby! I’m not sending to some doctor that will lock him away somewhere. He belongs here with us.”

There is a soft indrawn breath behind them. Dean jumps to his feet and looks around the arch. Sam is standing there, his hair still damp from the shower. Dean wonders how much he heard.

“Sammy,” he says. “You okay?”

Sam nods. “I’m fine.”

“Here, come sit down,” Bobby says. “I’ll fix you some breakfast.”

Sam moves to the table and sits down. He rests his chin on his hand and stares across the room. Dean might be wrong, but he thinks there is something different in Sam’s eyes now. He looks a little more alert than usual, as if, behind those empty eyes, he’s thinking hard.

He hopes this might be a sign of something changing.

xXx

Sam is trying, he’s trying hard, but he can’t pull himself out of this black hole of depression he has fallen into.

The only bright spot in his life are those moments in which his mind allows him to lose himself in memories of his time with Lucifer. He plays out their times together like a slideshow in his mind. He would be happy to do that forever, but there is always someone demanding something of him, pulling him from his memories of the man he loves. They demand that he eats and sleeps and showers. And they ask questions, endless questions. Are you okay? No. He is never okay. Does he need anything? Yes. He needs Lucifer back. Can they do anything for him? They can let him go.

It is for them that he stays, for Dean and Bobby, when what he really wants is to curl up and die. But he loves them and he can’t hurt them by doing that to himself. Instead, he forces himself to get through it, day after day, when there is a gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be.

He thinks he is doing a good job before he comes downstairs in time to hear Bobby and Dean’s conversation and hears how much he is hurting them despite trying hard to do the opposite.

He sits down at the table and eats the plate of food Bobby sets down in front of him, though he tastes nothing. His mind is busy processing what he’s heard. He isn’t doing enough to protect them from his pain, despite his best efforts, which means that he is failing.

It is freeing in a way, that knowledge. He doesn’t have to pretend so hard as they were seeing through it anyway. When he finishes his meal, he goes back to his and Dean’s bedroom and lies down on the bed. He pulls the rings out of his pocket and turns them over in his hand. He has one last hope for happiness, a hope that he has been ignoring since Lucifer had gone, because he knows it would hurt people he loved. He knows better now. He is already hurting them, so there is nothing left to lose.

The rest of the day passes in a haze of longing. He knows what he is going to do and waiting for the right time is physically painful. Finally, night comes, and Dean directs him to bed. He lies with his eyes closed until he hears Dean’s breaths change into the soft sighs of sleep. Then, he creeps from the bed and down the stairs.

He sits down at Bobby’s desk, and writes for a while, getting everything he needed down on paper. When he is done, he stuffs the letter into an envelope and lays it in the center of the kitchen table. He takes off his watch and puts that down on top of it. Satisfied, he goes out to the yard and pulls the rings from his pocket.

He tosses them down onto the ground between the rows of junkers and closes his eyes.

He remembers the enochian words well, as they are indelibly marked in his memory as the last words his lover spoke.

The ground opens and Sam takes a deep breath. He looks up at the darkened windows and whispers a goodbye to his brother. Then he steps into the nothingness.

There is a sense of swirling colors and blinding lights, and then he lands heavily. The air is knocked out of his by the fall, and he gasps. Then a voice comes to him, and it is the most welcome voice in the world.

It’s his angel, and he’s calling his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much. There will be a short epilogue to come. We wrote this story around the ending, as it was always meant to be this way. We hope you liked it. Thanks again, Snarks and Clowns.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Kazluvsbooks for pre-reading!

_Dean,_

_I’m sorry._

_There is so much that needs to be said, but as I sit down to write it, I can’t find the words._

_I want to thank you for everything you have done for me, every time you put me first and never asked for anything in return. I know I have been a burden to you, but I will never be that again._

_I tried to stay, for you and Bobby, but I wasn’t strong enough. I miss Lucifer so much it is a physical pain dragging me down._

_There is nothing you could have done. Don’t blame yourself. I’m where I want to be now, with the man I love._

_You and Bobby take care of each other, and be good to Cas._

_Keep fighting._

_I love you, Dean._

_Goodbye,_

_Sam_

Dean’s hand slackens and the letter drops inconsequentially to the floor. On leaden feet, he crosses the room and goes out to the porch.

Between the stacks of junkers, the rings lay on the ground. Dean bends and picks them up. The cool metal feels heavy in his hand, as if their power is weighing them down.

He falls to his knees as he hears Bobby’s voice calling to him from the porch. He turns, and tears flow down his face.

“He’s gone, Bobby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that has followed this story. We love you all and appreciate the support you have given us. We are working on another story, so keep your eyes out for it. Thanks again, Snarks and Clowns


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